WALKS    AND    TALKS 


OF  AN 


AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


14. 


BY 


FREDERICK  LAW  OLMSTED, 

NOW  SUPERINTENDENT   OP  THE  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  ;   AUTHOR  OF  A  JOURNEY 
IN  THE   SEA-BOARD   SLAVE  STATES,  A  JOURNEY  IN  TEXAS,  ETC.,  ETC. 


New  Edition,  Bevised,  with  Additions  by  the  Author. 


COLUMBUS,    OHIO: 
JOS.    H.    RILEY    AND    COMPANY. 

1859. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 
JOS.   H.   RILEY  &   CO., 

In  the  Clerk's   Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern 
District  of  Ohio. 


FOLLETT.  FOSTER  &  CO., 
Printers,  Stereotypers,  Binders 

and  Publishers, 
COLUMBUS,    OHIO. 


TO 

GEORGE    GEDDES,    ESQ., 

OP    ONONDAGA    COUNTT,    NEW   YORK, 

THIS   VOLUME   IS   RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED. 


PEEFACE. 


I  DO  not  deem  it  necessary  to  apologize  for  this  memoir  of  a 
farmer's  visit  to  England.  Every  man  in  traveling  will  be 
directed  in  peculiar  paths  of  observation  by  his  peculiar  tastes, 
habits,  and  personal  interests,  and  there  will  always  be  a  greater 
or  less  class  who  will  like  to  hear  of  just  what  he  liked  to  see. 
With  a  hearty  country  appetite  for  narrative,  I  have  spent,  pre- 
vious to  my  own  journey,  a  great  many  long  winter  evenings  in 
reading  the  books,  so  frequently  written  by  our  literary  tourists, 
upon  England ;  and  although  I  do  not  recollect  one  of  them,  the 
author  of  which  was  a  farmer,  or  whose  habits  of  life,  professional 
interests,  associations  in  society,  and  ordinary  standards  of  com- 
parison were  not  altogether  different  from  my  own,  I  remember 
none  from  which  I  did  not  derive  entertainment  and  instruction. 
Notwithstanding,  therefore,  the  triteness  of  the  field,  I  may 
presume  to  think,  that  there  will  be  a  great  many  who  will  yet 
enjoy  to  follow  me  over  it,  and  this  although  my  gait  and  carriage 

should  not  be  very  elegant,  but  so  only  as  one  farmer's  leg  and 

(v) 


PREFACE. 


one  sailor's  leg,  with  the  help  of  a  short,  crooked,  half-grown 
academic  sapling  for  a  walking  stick,  might  be  expected  to 
carry  a  man  along  with  a  head  and  a  heart  of  his  own. 

And  as  it  is  especially  for  farmers  and  farmers'  families  that  I 
have  written,  I  expect  that  all  who  try  to  read  the  book,  will  be 
willing  to  come  into  a  warm,  good-natured,  broad  country  kitchen 
fireside  relation  with  me,  and  permit  me  to  speak  my  mind  freely, 
and  in  such  language  as  I  can  readily  command,  on  all  sorts  of 
subjects  that  come  in  my  way,  forming  their  own  views  from  the 
facts  that  I  give  them,  and  taking  my  opinions  for  only  just  what 
they  shall  seem  to  be  worth. 

Some  explanation  of  a  few  of  the  intentions  that  gave  direction 
to  my  movements  in  traveling  may  be  of  service  to  the  reader. 

The  wages,  and  the  cost  and  manner  of  living  of  the  laboring 
men,  and  the  customs  with  regard  to  labor  of  those  countries  and 
districts,  from  which  foreign  writers  on  economical  subjects  are 
in  the  habit  of  deriving  their  data,  had  been  made  a  subject  of 
more  than  ordinary  and  other  than  merely  philanthropical  interest 
to  me,  from  an  experience  of  the  difficulty  of  applying  their  cal- 
culations to  the  different  circumstances  under  which  work  must 
be  executed  in  the  United  States.  My  vocation  as  a  farmer,  too, 
had  led  me  for  a  long  time  to  desire  to  know  more  of  the  prevail- 
ing, ordinary,  and  generally-accepted  practices  of  agriculture  than 
I  could  learn  from  Mr.  Coleman's  book,  or  from  the  observations 
of  most  of  the  European  correspondents  of  our  agricultural  peri- 
odicals ;  the  attention  of  these  gentlemen  having  been  usually 


PREFACE.  vii 


directed  to  the  exceptional,  improved  modes  of  cultivation  which 
prevail  only  among  the  amateur  agriculturists  and  the  bolder  and 
more  enterprising  farmers. 

The  tour  was  made  in  company  with  two  friends,  whose  pur- 
poses somewhat  influence  the  character  of  the  narrative.  One 
of  them — my  brother — hoped  by  a  course  of  invigorating  exer- 
cise, simple  diet,  and  restraint  from  books  and  other  in-door  and 
sedentary  luxuries,  to  reestablish  his  weakened  health,  and  espe- 
cially to  strengthen  his  eyes,  frequent  failures  of  which  often 
seriously  annoyed  aud  interrupted  him  in  the  study  of  his  profes- 
sion. The  other,  our  intimate  friend  from  boyhood,  desired  to 
add  somewhat  to  the  qualifications  usually  inquired  after  in  a 
professed  teacher  and  adviser  of  mankind,  by  such  a  term  and 
method  of  study  as  he  could  afford  to  make  of  the  varying 
developments  of  human  nature,  under  different  biases  and  insti- 
tutions from  those  of  his  own  land. 

We  all  thought  that  it  should  be  among  those  classes  which 
form  the  majority  of  the  people  of  a  country  that  the  truest 
exhibition  of  national  character  should  be  looked  for,  and  that  in 
their  condition  should  be  found  the  best  evidence  of  the  wisdom 
of  national  institutions. 

In  forming  the  details  of  a  plan  by  which  we  could,  within 
certain  limits  of  time  and  money,  best  accomplish  such  purposes 
as  I  have  indicated,  we  were  much  indebted  to  the  information 
and  advice  given  by  Bayard  Taylor,  in  his  "  Views  a-Foot." 

This  volume  contains  a  narrative  of  the  earlier,  and  to  us  most 


yiii  PREFACE. 


interesting,  though  not  the  most  practically  valuable,  part  of  our 
journey.  I  was  in  the  habit  of  writing  my  diary  in  the  form  of 
a  letter,  to  be  sent  as  occasion  offered  to  friends  at  home.  It  is 
from  this  desultory  letter-diary,  with  such  revision  and  extension 
and  filling  up  of  gaps  as  my  memory  and  pocket-book  notes 
afford,  that  this  book  has  been  now  made. 

FRED.  LAW  OLMSTED. 

TOSOMOCK  FARM,  SOUTHSIDE,  > 
Staten  Island,  1859.     j 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Emigrant  Passenger  Agents— Second  Cabin— Mutiny— Delay— Departure 1 

CHAPTER  H. 

At  Sea— Incidents— Sea  Sociability— A  Yarn— Sea  Life— Characters— English  Radicals     6 

CHAPTER  HI. 
Sailors—' '  Sogers  ''—Books— Anecdotes 23 

CHAPTER  IV. 
On  Soundings — English  Small  Craft — Harbor  of  Liverpool 27 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  First  of  England— The  Streets— A  Railway  Station— The  Docks  at  Night— Pros- 
titutes—Temperance— The  Still  Life  of  Liverpool— A  Market 85 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  People  at  Liverpool— Poverty— Merchants— Shopkeepers— Women— Soldiers- 
Children— Donkeys  and  Dray-Horses 44 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Liverpool  Continued — Irish  Beggars — Condition  of  Laborers — Cost  of  Living — Prices 
—Bath  House— Quarantine— The  Docks— Street  Scene— " Coming  Yankee"  over 
Nonsense — Artistic  Begging 49 

CHAPTER  VIH. 

Birkenhead— Ferry-Boats  —  Gruff  Englishmen— The  Abbey— Flour— Market— The 

Park— A  Democratic  Institution— Suburban  Villas,  etc 57 

(ix) 


CONTEXTS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Railway  Ride — Second  Class — Inconvenient  Arrangements — First  Walk  in  the 
Country— England  itself— A  Rural  Landscape— Hedges— Approach  to  a  Hamlet— 
The  Old  Ale-House  and  the  Old  John  Bull— A  Talk  with  Country  People— Notions 
of  America— Free  Trade— The  Yew  Tree— The  Old  Rural  Church  and  Graveyard— 
A  Park  Gate— A  Model  Farmer— The  Old  Tillage  Inn— A  Model  Kitchen— A  Model 
Landlady 68 

CHAPTER  X. 

Talk  with  a  Farmer;  with  a  Tender-hearted  Wheelwright^-An  Amusing  Story- 
Notions  of  America— Supper— Speech  of  the  English— Pleasant  Tones— Quaint 
Expressions— The  Twenty-ninth  of  May— Zaccheus  in  the  Oak  Tree— Education- 
Bedchamber— A  Nightcap,  and— a  Nightcap 75 

CHAPTER  XL 

The  Break  of  Day— A  Full  Heart— Familiar  Things— The  Tillage  at  Sunrise— Flowers 
—Birds— Dog-Kennels— ';  The  Squire  "  and  "  The  Hall  "—Rooks— Tisit  to  a  Small 
Farm— The  Cows— The  Milking— The  Dairy-Maids— The  Stables— Manure— Bones 
— Pasture — White  Clover — Implements — Carts — The  English  Plow  and  Harrow. . .  82 

CHAPTER  XH. 

Breakfast  at  the  Inn— A  Tale  of  High  Life— The  Garden  of  the  Inn— An  Old  Farm- 
House—Timber  Houses  — Laborers'  Cottages  — Wattles  and  Noggin  Walls— A 
"Fenne  Ornee  "—A  Lawn  Pasture—  Copper-leaved  Beeches— Tame  Black  Cattle- 
Approach  to  Chester 86 

CHAPTER  XHI. 
Chester  without— A  Walk  on  the  Walls— Antiquities— Striking  Contrasts 92 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Chester  within— Peculiarities  of  Building— The  Rows— A  Sea  Captain— Romancing 
— An  Old  Inn — Old  English  Town  Houses — Timber  Houses — Claiming  an  Inherit- 
ance—A Cook  Shop — One  of  the  Alleys— Breaking  into  the  Cathedral— Expulsion 
—Tie  Curfew 100 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Chester  Market— The  Town  Common— Race-Course— The  Yeomanry  Cavalry,  and 
the  Militia  of  England— Public  Wash-House 108 

CHAPTER  XVL 

Visit  to  Eaton  Hall— The  Largest  Arch  in  the  World— The  Outer  Park— Backwoods 
Farming— The  Deer  Park— The  Hall— The  Parterre— The  Lawn— The  Fruit  Garden 
—Stables ..  112 


CONTENTS.  xi 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Gamekeeper — Game  Preserves — Eccleston,  a  Pretty  Village — The  School-House — 
Draining— Children  Playing— The  River-side  Walk— Pleasure  Parties— A  Contrast- 
ing Glimpse  of  a  Sad  Heart — Saturday  Night — Ballad  Singer — Mendicants — Row  in 
the  Tap-Room — Woman's  Feebleness — Chester  Beer,  and  Beer-Drinking 119 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Character  of  the  Welsh— The  Cathedral ;  the  Clergy,  Service,  Intoning,  the  Ludic- 
rous and  the  Sublime — A  Reverie — A  Revelation — The  Sermon — Communions — 
Other  Churches— Sunday  Evening— Character  of  the  Townspeople 128 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Clandestine  Architectural  Studies— A  Visit  to  the  Marquis  of  Westminster's  Stud- 
Stable  Matters 139 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Cheshire  Cheese  District  and  English  Husbandry  upon  Heavy  Soils — Pastures  ; 
their  Permanence — The  Use  of  Bones  as  a  Manure  in  Cheshire — A  Valuable  Re- 
mark to  Owners  of  Improved  Neat  Stock — Breeds  of  Dairy  Stock — Horses 145 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Tillage— Size  of  Farms — Condition  of  Laborers— Fences— Hedges— Surface  Drainage 
—Under  Drainage— Valuable  Implements  for  Stiff  Soils,  not  used  in  the  United 
States 162 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  General  Condition  of  Agriculture — Rotation  of  Crops — Productiveness — Seeding 
down  to  Grass — Comparison  of  English  and  American  Practice — Practical  Remarks 
— Rye-Grass,  Clover — Biennial  Grasses — Guano — Lime — The  Condition  of  Laborers, 

s,  etc.— Dairy -Maids— Allowance  of  Beer 158 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Remarks  on  the  Cultivation  of  Beet  and  Mangel- Wurzel 166 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Delightful  Walk  by  the  Dee  Banks,  and  through  Eaton  Park— Wrexham— A  Fair— 
Maids  by  a  Fountain — The  Church — Jackdaws — The  Tap-Room  and  Tap-Room 
Talk— Political  Deadness  of  the  Laboring  Class— A  Methodist  Bagman 169 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Morning  Walk  through  a  Coal  District— Ruabon— An  Optimist  with  a  Welsh  Wife- 
Graveyard  Notes— A  Stage- Wagon— Taxes— Wynstay  Park— Thorough  Draining— 
A  Glimpse  of  Cottage  Life—"  Sir  Watkins  Williams  Wyn  " 174 


xii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Stone  Houses — Ivy — Virginia  Creeper — A  Visit  to  a  Welsh  Horse-Fair — English  Ve- 
hicles—  Agricultural  Notes  —  Horses  —  Breeds  of  Cattle  j  Herefords,  Welsh,  and 
Smutty  Pates— Character  of  the  People— Dress— Powis  Park 180 

CHAPTER  XXVH. 

English  Vehicles— A  Feudal  Castle  and  Modern  Aristocratic  Mansion— Aristocracy  in 
1850 — Primogeniture — Democratic  Tendency  of  Political  Sentiments — Disposition 
towards  the  United  States— Combativeness — Slavery 186 

CHAPTER  XXYHI. 

Paintings— Cromwell  —  Pastoral  Ships— Family  Portraits  and  Distant  Relations— 
Family  Apartments— Personal  Cleanliness— The  Wrekin 195 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Visit  to  a  Farm  —  Farm-House  and  Farmery — Fatting  Cattle — Sheep — Vetches — 
Stack  Yard— Steam  Threshing— Turnip  Sowing— Excellent  Work— Tram  Road- 
Wages  199 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Visit  to  Two  English  Common  Schools 203 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Shrewsbury— Angling  in  Curricles— Sheep-walks— Effect  of  Thorough  Draining  on 
Dry  Soils — Gorse — Church  Stretton — Churchyard  Literature — Encounter  with  an 
Enthusiastic  Free-Trader 206 

CHAPTER  XXXH. 

Country  Carrier's  Cart— Independent  Breakfast— Beauty— Old  Inn— Jack  up  the 
Chimney — Bacon  and  Bread ;  Beer  and  Rum — Ludlow — An  Apostolic  Church — The 
Poor-House —  Case  of  a  Broken  Heart — Refreshment 212 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Physical  Education — A  Rustic  Village — Farm-House  Kitchen — An  Orchard — Stables 
— LeominBter— A  Trout  Brook— Fruit  Culture 218 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

English  Orchard  Districts — The  most  Favorable  Soils  and  Climate — Lime — Practical 
Deduction— Diseases— Prevention  and  Remedies— Suggestions 222 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Decay  of  Varieties— Two  Theories :  Knight's,  Downing's— English  Theory  and  Prac- 
tice—Practical Deductions — Causes  of  Decay — Remedies — Hints  to  Orchardists — 
Special  Manures — Pruning — Thorough  Drainage — A  Satirical  Sketch — Shooting 
the  Apple-Tree 228 


CONTENTS.  xiii 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Roofs  ;  Shingles ;  Tile  ;  Thatch :  the  Advantages  and  Disadvantages  of  each — The 
Use  of  Thatch  in  America— Hereford— Christian  Hospitality— A  Milk  Farm— The 
Herefords— A  Dangerous  Man— Primitive  Christianity 239 

CHAPTER  XXXVH. 

The  County  Jail— English  Prison  Discipline— The  Perfection  of  the  Present— Educa- 
tion and  Taxation— What  Next  ?— Captain  Machonochie— The  Mark  System— The 
Christian  Idea  of  Punishment 246 

CHAPTER  XXXVIH. 

A  Hit— The  Debtor's  Prison— Utter  Cleanliness— " City "  and  "Town"— "Down" 
and  "  Up  "—Hereford  Cathedral— Church  and  State— The  Public  Promenade  —  255 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Shady  Lanes — Rural  Sketches — Herefordshire  and  Monmouthshire  Scenery — Points 
of  Difference  in  English  and  American  Landscapes — Visit  to  a  Farm-House — The 
Mistress— The  Farm-House  Garden— A  Stout  Old  English  Farmer— The  Stables 
and  Stock— Turnip  Culture— Sheep— Wheat— Hay— Rents— Prices— A  Parting- 
Cider  260 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Walk  with  a  Rustic — Family  Meeting — A  Recollection  of  the  Rhine — Ignorance  and 
Degraded  Condition  of  the  English  Agricultural  Laborer — How  he  is  Regarded  by 
his  Superiors — The  Principles  of  Government — Duties  of  the  Governing — Education 
—Slavery— The  Diet  of  Laborers— Drink— Bread— Bacon— Fresh  Meat 271 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Tintern  Abbey  and  the  Wye — English  Screw  Steamers — Tide  Deluge — St.  Vincent's 
Rocks— Bristol-built  Vessels— The  Vale  of  Gloucester— Whitfield  "  Example  Farm" 
— Hedge-row  Timber — Drainage — Buildings — Stock  —  Soiling  —  Manure — Wheat — 
Beets  and  Turnips — Disgraceful  Agriculture — The  Landed  Gentry — Wages  of  La- 
borers   282 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Bath — Warminster — Surly  Postmaster — A  Doubtful  Character — Polite  Innkeeper 
and  Pretty  Chambermaid— The  Tap-Room  Fireside— Rustic  Civility— Rainy  Morn- 
ing in  a  Country  Inn — Coming  to  Market — The  Road  in  a  Storm — Scudding 288 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  South-Downs—Wiltshire  Landscape— Chalk  and  Flint— Irrigation— The  Cost 
and  Profit  of  Water-Meadows—Sewerage  Water— Irrigation  in  Old  Times 295 


xiv  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

Flocks,  Dogs,  and  Shepherds  of  Salisbury  Plain— Village  Almshouses— Ostentation 
in  Alms-giYing— A  Forced  March— At  Home  in  Salisbury— The  Street  Brooks— The 
Cathedral— Architectural  Remarks  and  Advice— Village  Churches 305 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

Salisbury  Plain — Strange  Desert  Character  of  the  Scenery — The  Agriculture — Sain- 
foin and  Lucerne — Large  Farms — Effect  on  Laborers — Paring  and  Burning — When 
Expedient— Expense— Sheep-folding— Movable  Railways  and  Sheds 312 

CHAPTER  XL VI. 

An  Arcadian  Hamlet— Out  of  the  World,  but  not  Beyond  the  Reach  of  the  Yankee 
Peddler — The  Cottages  of  the  Downs — Grout  and  Cobble-stones — Character  of  the 
Laboring  Class  of  the  Downs— Want  of  Curiosity— Old  Stockbridge,  Winchester, 
William  of  Wykeham — His  Legacy  to  Wayfarers — The  Cathedral — Some  Remarks 
on  Architectural  Situation — Search  for  Lodgings — Motherly  Kindness — Railroad 
Mismanagement — Waterloo  Day  at  Portsmouth 319 

CHAPTER  XLVLL 

The  Deceit  of  Descriptions  of  Scenery — The  Soul  of  a  Landscape — The  Isle  of  Wight ; 
its  Characteristics— Appropriate  Domestic  Architecture— Genial  Climate— Tropical 
Verdure — The  Cliffs  of  Albion — Osborne — The  Royal  Villa — Country  Life  of  the 
Royal  Family— Agricultural  Inclination  and  Rural  Tastes— The  Royal  Tenantry—  326 

CHAPTER  XLVHL 

The  Queen's  Yacht— Yachts  of  the  R.  Y.  Club ;  their  Build  and  Rig— Comparison 
with  American  Yachts  and  Pilot-Boats— Seamanship— Cut  of  Sails— The  Navy- 
Yard  at  Portsmouth — Gun-Boats — Steamers  —  Evening  at  Portsea  —  Curiosity — 
About  Boasting  and  some  English  Characteristics — Conversation  with  a  Shop- 
keeper on  the  "Glory  of  England" 330 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Rural  Police— The  "Anchor"  Inn— The  Garden— "Old  Coaching  Times"— Heath 
Land— A  Dreary  Landscape— Murder  and  a  Highway  Adventure— Human  Vanity.  336 

CHAPTER  L. 
London  Lads — Railway  Ride — Observations  in  Natural  History 340 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Rural  Laborers  near  London — Our  Mother  Tongue — Cockneys — Provincialists — On 
the  Naturalization  of  Foreign  Words— Authorities — Suburban  London — London — 
The  Thames— "  Saint  Paul's  from  Blackfriar's  Bridge" 343 


CONTENTS.  xv 


CHAPTER  LH. 
A  Pilgrimage 349 

APPENDIX.    [A] 353 

[B] 360 


u/\ 


WALKS   AND   TALKS 


OF    AN 


AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND, 


CHAPTER   I. 

Emigrant  Passenger  Agents  —  Second  Cabin  —  Mutiny  —  Delay  —  De- 
parture. 

TI7E  intended,  if  we  could  be  suited,  to  take  a  second  cabin 
state-room  for  our  party  of  three,  and  to  accommodate  me, 
my  friends  had  agreed  to  wait  till  after  "  planting."  While  I 
therefore  hurried  on  the  spring  work  upon  my  farm,  they  in  the 
city  were  examining  ships  and  consulting  passenger  agents.  The 
confidence  in  imposition  those  acquire  who  are  in  the  habit  of 
dealing  with  emigrant  passengers,  was  amusingly  shown  in  the 
assurance  with  which  they  would  attempt  to  lie  down  the  most 
obvious  objections  to  what  they  had  to  offer ;  declaring  that  a 
cabin  disgusting  with  filth  and  the  stench  of  bilge-water  was 
sweet  and  clean ;  that  darkness  in  which  they  would  be  groping 


AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


was  very  light  (a  trick,  certainly,  not  confined  to  their  trade) ; 
that  a  space  in  which  one  could  not  stand  erect,  or  a  berth  like  a 
coffin,  was  very  roomy,  and  so  forth. 

Finally  we  were  taken  in  by  the  perfect  impudence  and  utter 
simplicity  in  falsehood  of  one  of  them,  an  underling  of  "  a  respec- 
table house" — advertised  passenger  agents  of  the  ship — which, 
on  the  lie  being  represented  to  it,  thought  proper  to  express  its 
"  regret "  at  the  young  man's  error,  but  could  not  be  made  to  see 
that  it  was  proper  for  it  to  do  any  thing  more — the  error  not 
having  been  discovered  in  time  for  us  to  conveniently  make  other 
arrangements. 

We  had  engaged  a  "  family  room  "  exclusively  for  ourselves, 
in  the  large  and  neatly-fitted  cabin  of  a  new,  clean,  first-class 
packet.  "We  thought  the  price  asked  for  it  very  low,  and  to  se- 
cure it  beyond  a  doubt,  had  paid  half  the  money  down  at  the 
agent's  desk,  and  taken  a  receipt,  put  some  of  our  baggage  in  it, 
locked  the  door,  and  taken  the  key.  The  ship  was  hauling  out 
from  her  pier  when  we  went  on  board  with  our  trunks,  and  found 
that  the  spacious  second  cabin  had  been  stowed  half  full  of  cot- 
ton, and  the  remaining  space  lumbered  up  with  ship  stores,  spare 
sails,  etc.  The  adjoining  rooms  were  evidently  occupied  by  steer- 
age passengers,  and  the  steward  was  trying  keys  to  let  them  into 
ours.  The  mate  cursed  us  for  taking  the  key,  and  the  captain 
declared  that  no  one  had  been  authorized  to  make  such  arrange- 
ments as  had  been  entered  into  with  us,  and  that  he  should  put 
whom  he  pleased  into  the  room. 

We  held  on  to  the  key,  and  appealed  first  to  the  agents  and 
then  to  the  owners.  Finally  we  agreed  to  take  a  single  room- 
mate, a  young  man  whom  they  introduced  to  us,  and  whose  ap- 
pearance promised  agreeably,  and  with  this  compromise  were 
allowed  to  retain  possession.  The  distinction  between  second 
cabin  and  steerage  proved  to  be  an  imagination  of  the  agents — 


PASSENGER  AGENTS  —  MUTINY. 


those  who  had  asked  for  a  steerage  passage  were  asked  a  little 
less,  and  had  berths  given  them  in  the  second-cabin  state-rooms, 
the  proper  steerage  being  filled  up  with  freight.  The  cap- 
tain, however,  directed  the  cook  to  serve  us,  allowed  us  a  light  at 
night  in  our  room,  and  some  other  special  conveniences  and  privi- 
leges, and  generally  treated  us,  after  we  got  to  sea,  as  if  he  con- 
sidered us  rather  more  of  the  "  gentleman  "  class  than  the  rest ; — 
say  about  two  dollars  apiece  more. 

After  the  ship  had  hauled  out  in  the  stream,  and  while  she  lay 
in  charge  of  the  first  mate,  the  captain  having  gone  ashore,  there 
was  a  bit  of  mutiny  among  the  seamen.  Nearly  the  whole  crew 
refused  to  do  duty,  and  pledged  each  other  never  to  take  the  ship 
to  sea.  Seeing  that  the  officers,  though  prepared  with  loaded 
pistols,  were  not  disposed  to  act  rashly,  we  offered  to  assist  them, 
for  the  men  had  brought  up  their  chests  and  were  collecting  hand- 
spikes and  weapons,  and  threatened  to  take  a  boat  from  the  davits 
if  they  were  not  sent  on  shore.  It  was  curious  to  see  how  the 
steerage  passengers,  before  they  had  any  idea  of  the  grounds  of 
the  quarrel,  but  as  if  by  instinct,  almost  to  a  man,  took  sides 
against  the  lawful  authority. 

Having  had  some  experience  with  the  ways  of  seamen,  I  also 
went  forward  to  try  to  pacify  them.  (Like  most  Connecticut 
boys,  I  knocked  about  the  world  a  few  years  before  I  settled 
down,  and  one  of  these  I  spent  in  a  ship's  forecastle.)  The  only 
tiling  that  the  soberest  of  them  could  say  was,  that  a  man  had 
been  killed  on  the  ship,  and  they  knew  she  was  going  to  be  un- 
lucky ;  and  that  they  had  been  shipped  in  her  when  too  drunk 
to  know  what  they  were  about.  Perceiving  all  that  the  most 
of  them  wanted  was  to  get  ashore  to  have  their  spree  out,  and  as 
there  was  no  reasoning  with  them,  I  advised  the  mate  to  send 
them  a  fiddle  and  let  them  get  to  dancing.  He  liked  the  idea, 
but  had  no  fiddle,  so  as  the  next  best  pacifying  expedient,  ordered 


AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 


the  cook  to  give  them  supper.  They  took  to  this  kindly,  and 
after  using  it  up  fell  to  playing  monkey-shines,  and  with  singing, 
dancing  and  shouting,  kept  themselves  in  good  humor  until  late 
in  the  evening,  when  they,  one  by  one,  dropped  off,  and  turned 
in.  The  next  morning  they  were  all  drunk  or  sulky,  and  con- 
tented themselves  with  refusing  to  come  on  deck  when  ordered. 

When  the  captain  came  on  board  and  learned  the  state  of 
things,  he  took  a  hatchet,  and  with  the  officers  and  carpenter, 
jumped  into  the  forecastle,  and  with  a  general  knocking  down 
and  kicking  out,  got  them  all  on  deck.  He  then  broke  open  their 
chests  and  took  from  them  six  jugs  of  grog  which  they  had  con- 
cealed, and  threw  them  overboard.  As  they  floated  astern,  a 
Whitehall  boatmen  picked  them  up,  and  after  securing  the  last, 
took  a  drink  and  loudly  wished  us  luck. 

Two  or  three  of  the  most  violent  were  sent  on  shore,  (not 
punished,  but  so  rewarded,)  and  their  places  supplied  by  others. 
The  rest  looked  a  little  sour,  and  contrived  to  meet  with  a  good 
many  accidents  as  long  as  the  shore-boats  kept  about  us ;  but 
when  we  were  fairly  getting  clear  of  the  land,  and  the  wind 
hauled  a  bit  more  aft,  and  the  passengers  began  to  wish  she 
would  stop  for  just  one  moment,  and  there  came  a  whirr-rushing 
noise  from  under  the  bows — the  hearty  yo-Jio — heave-o-lioii — with 
which  they  roused  out  the  stu'n-sails,  was  such  as  nobody  the 
least  bit  sulky  could  have  begun  to  find  voice  for. 

A  handsome  Napoleonic  performance  it  was  of  the  captain's : 
the  more  need  that  I  should  say  that  in  my  mind  he  disgraced 
himself  by  it ;  because,  while  we  lay  almost  within  hail  of  the 
properly  constituted  officers  of  the  law,  and  under  the  guns  of  a 
United  States  fortress,  such  dashing  violence  was  unnecessary 
and  lawless ; — only  at  sea  had  he  the  right,  or  could  he  b*e  justi- 
fied in  using  it. 

I  suppose  that  some  such  difficulties  occur  at  the  sailing  of 


TILE  START. 


half  the  ships  that  leave  New  York.  I  have  been  on  board  a 
number  as  they  were  getting  under  way,  and  in  every  one  of 
them  there  has  been  more  or  less  trouble  arising  from  the  intoxi- 
cated condition  of  the  crew.  Twice  I  have  seen  men  fall  over- 
board, when  first  ordered  aloft,  in  going  down  the  harbor. 

The  ship  did  not  go  to  sea  until  three  days  after  she  was 
advertised  to  sail,  though  she  had  her  crew,  stores,  and  steerage 
passengers  on  board  all  that  time.  I  do  not  know  the  cause  of 
her  detention ;  it  seemed  unnecessary,  as  other  large  ships  sailed 
while  we  lay  idle ;  and  if  unnecessary,  it  was  not  honest.  The 
loss  of  three  days'  board,  and  diminution  by  so  much  of  the  stores, 
calculated  to  last  out  the  passage,  and  all  the  other  expenses  and 
inconveniences  occasioned  by  it  to  the  poor  steerage  passengers, 
may  seem  hardly  worthy  of  notice ;  and  I  should  not  mention  it, 
if  such  delays,  often  much  more  protracted,  were  not  frequent — 
sometimes  adding  materially  to  the  suffering  always  attending  a 
long  passage. 

At  noon  on  the  3d  of  May  we  passed  out  by  the  light-ship  of 
the  outer  bar,  and  soon  after  eight  o'clock  that  evening  the  last 
gleam  of  Fire-Island  light  disappeared  behind  the  dark  line  of 
unbroken  horizon. 


AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  H. 

At  Sea —  Incidents — Sea  sociability — A  Yam  —  Sea  Life — Characters — 
English  Radicals. 

At  Sea,  May  23. 

TT"E  are  reckoned  to-day  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  to  the  westward  of  Cape  Clear ;  ship  close-hauled, 
heading  north,  with  a  very  dim  prospect  of  the  termination  of  our 
voyage.  It  has  been  thus  far  rather  dull  and  uneventful.  "We 
three  have  never  been  obliged  to  own  ourselves  actually  sea-sick, 
but  at  any  time  during  the  first  week  we  could  hardly  have 
declared  that  we  felt  perfectly  well,  and  our  appetites  seemed 
influenced  at  every  meal  as  if  by  a  gloomy  apprehension  of  what 
an  hour  might  bring  forth.  Most  of  the  other  passengers  have 
been  very  miserable  indeed.  I  notice  they  recover  more  rapidly 
in  the  steerage  than  in  the  cabin.  This  I  suppose  to  be  owing  to 
their  situation  in  the  middle  of  the  ship,  where  there  is  the  least 
motion,  to  their  simple  diet,  and  probably  to  their  having  less 
temptation  to  eat  freely,  and  greater  necessity  to  "make  an 
effort,"  and  move  about  in  fresh  air. 

"We  have  met  one  school  of  small  whales.  There  might  have 
been  fifty  of  them,  tumbling  ponderously  over  the  waves,  in  sight 
at  once.  Occasionally  one  would  rise  lazily  up  so  near,  that,  as 
he  caught  sight  of  us,  we  could  seem  to  see  an  expression  of 


THE  VOYAGE. 


surprise  and  alarm  in  his  stolid,  black  face,  and  then  he  would 
hastily  throw  himself  under  again,  with  an  energetic  slap  of  his 
flukes. 

One  dark,  foggy  night,  while  we  were  "  on  the  Banks,"  we 
witnessed  a  rather  remarkable  exhibition  of  marine  pyrotechny. 
The  whole  water,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  was  lustrous  white,  while 
near  the  eye  it  was  full  of  spangles,  and  every  disturbance,  as 
that  caused  by  the  movement  of  the  ship,  or  the  ripples  from  the 
wind,  or  the  surging  of  the  sea,  was  marked  by  fire  flashes.  Very 
singular  spots,  from  the  size  of  one's  hand  to  minute  sparks,  fre- 
quently floated  by,  looking  like  stars  in  the  milky-way.  We 
noticed  also  several  schools,  numbering  hundreds,  of  what  seemed 
little  fishes  (perhaps  an  inch  long),  that  darted  here  and  there, 
comet-like,  with  great  velocity.  I  tried,  without  success,  to  catch 
some  of  these.  It  was  evident  that,  besides  the  ordinary  phos- 
phorescent animalculae,  there  were  various  and  distinct  varieties 
of  animated  nature  around  us,  such  as  are  not  often  to  be 
observed. 

Some  kind  of  sea-bird  we  have  seen,  I  think,  every  day,  and 
when  at  the  greatest  distance  from  land.  Where  is  their  home  ? 
is  an  oft-repeated  question,  and,  What  do  they  eat  ?  They  are 
mysteries,  these  feathered  Bedouins.  To-day,  land  and  long- 
legged  shore  birds  are  coming  on  board  of  us.  They  fly  tremu- 
lously about  the  ship,  sometimes  going  off  out  of  sight  and  back 
again,  then  lighting  for  a  few  moments  on  a  spar  or  line  of  rig- 
ging. Some  have  fallen  asleep  so;  or  suffered  themselves, 
though  panting  with  apprehension,  to  be  taken.  One  of  these  is 
a  swallow,  and  another  a  wheat-ear.  Some  kind  of  a  lark,  but 
not  recognizable  by  the  English  on  board,  was  taken  several  days 
since.  It  had  probably  been  lost  from  the  Western  Islands. 

We  have  seen  but  very  few  vessels ;  but  the  meeting  with  one 
of  them  was  quite  an  event  in  sea  life.  She  was  coming  from 


AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


the  eastward,  wind  north,  and  running  free,  when  we  first  saw 
her,  but  soon  after  Hook  in  her  studding-sails  and  hauled  up  so  as 
to  come  near  us.  When  abeam,  and  about  three  miles  distant, 
she  showed  Bremen  colors,  laid  aback  her  mainsail  and  lowered 
a  quarter-boat,  which  we  immediately  squared  away  to  meet,  and 
ran  up  our  bunting :  every  body  on  deck,  and  great  excitement. 
"With  a  glass  we  could  see  her  decks  loaded  with  emigrants ;  and 
as  her  masts  and  sails  appeared  entirely  uninjured,  it  could  only 
be  conjectured  that  she  was  distressed  for  provisions  or  water. 
The  carpenter  was  sent  to  sound  the  water  tanks,  and  the  mate 
to  make  an  estimate  of  what  stores  might  be  safely  spared,  while 
we  hastened  to  our  room,  to  scribble  notes  to  send  home.  We 
finished  them  soon  enough  to  see  a  neat  boat,  rowed  by  four  men, 
come  alongside,  and  a  gentlemanly  young  officer  mount  nimbly 
up  the  side-ladder.  He  was  received  on  deck  by  our  second 
mate,  and  conducted  aft  by  him  to  the  cabin  companion,  where 
the  captain,  having  put  on  his  best  dress-coat  and  new  Broadway 
stove-pipe  hat,  stood,  like  a  small  king,  dignifiedly  waiting.  After 
the  ceremony  of  presentation,  the  captain  inquired,  "  Well,  sir, 
what  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  you?"  The  young 

man  replied  that  he  came  from  the  ship  so-and-so,  Captain , 

who  sent  his  compliments,  and  desired  "  Vaat  is  te  news?"  This 
cool  motive  tor  stopping  two  ships  in  mid-ocean,  with  a  fresh  and 
favorable  wind  blowing  for  each,  took  the  captain  plainly  aback ; 
but  he  directly  recovered,  and  taking  him  into  the  cabin,  gave 
him  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  few  minutes*  conversation  with  a  most 
creditable  politeness ;  a  chunk  of  ice  and  a  piece  of  fresh  meat 
were  passed  into  the  boat,  and  the  steerage  passengers  threw 
some  tobacco  to  the  men  in  her.  The  young  officer  took  our 
letters,  with  some  cigars  and  newspapers,  and  went  over  the  side 
again,  without  probably  having  perceived  that  we  were  any  less 
gregarious  beings  than  himself.  The  curbed  energy  and  sup- 


A  "BOARDING"  ANECDOTE. 


pressed  vexation  of  our  officers,  however,  showed  itself  before  he 
was  well  seated  in  his  boat,  by  the  violent  language  of  command, 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  the  yards  were  sharpened  and  the 
ship  again  brought  to  her  course. 

This  occurrence  brought  to  the  mind  of  our  "second  dickey" 
that  night,  a  boarding  affair  of  his  own,  of  which  he  told  us  in 
the  drollest  manner  possible.  I  wish  you  could  hear  his  drawl, 
and  see  his  immovably  sober  face,  but  twinkling  eye,  that  made 
it  all  seem  natural  and  just  like  him,  as  he  spun  us  the  yarn. 

He  was  once,  he  said,  round  in  the  Pacific,  in  a  Sag-Harbor 
whaler,  "rayther  smart,  we  accounted  her,"  when  they  tried  to 
speak  an  English  frigate,  and  did  not  get  quite  near  enough. 
So,  as  they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  they  "up't  and  chased  her," 
and  kept  after  her  without  ever  getting  any  nearer  for  nearly 
three  days.  Finally,  the  wind  hauled  round  ahead  and  began 
to  blow  a  little  fresh,  and  they  overhauled  her  very  rapidly,  so 
that  along  about  sunset  they  found  themselves  coming  well  to 
windward  of  her,  as  they  ran  upon  opposite  tacks.  They  then 
hove-to,  and  he  was  sent  in  a  boat  to  board  her,  and  she  promptly 
came-to  also,  and  waited  for  him. 

Dressed  in  a  dungaree  jumper,  yellow  oil-skin  hat,  and  canvass 
trowsers,  he  climbed  on  board  the  frigate  and  was  addressed  by 
the  officer  of  the  deck. 

"Now  then,  sir,  what  is  it?" 
"Are  you  the  cap'en  of  this  ere  frigate,  sir?" 
"What's  your  business,  sir?" 

"Why,  our  cap'en  sent  his  compliments  to  yourn,  sir,  and — if 
you  are  a  going  home — he  wished  you'd  report  the  bark  Lu- 
creetshy  Ann,  of  Sag-Harbor,  Cap'en  J.  Coffin  Starbuck,  thirty- 
seven  days  from  [Wahoo]  Oahu,  seven  hundred  and  fifty  barrels 
of  sperm,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  o'  right ;  guess  we  shall  go 
in  to  Tuckeywarner  [Talcahuano]." 


10  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

" Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"Well,  no ;  the  old  man  said,  if  you  was  a  mind  to,  he'd  like 
to  have  me  see  if  I  could  make  a  trade  with  yer  for  some  'backy. 
We  hain't  had  none  now  a  going  on  two  week,  and  he's  a  most 
sick.  How  is't — yer  mind  to?" 

"Is  that  all  your  business,  sir?" 

"Well — yes;  guess 'tis — about  all." 

"I  think  you  had  better  go  into  your  boat,  sir." 

He  thought  so  too,  when  he  saw  the  main-yard  immediately 
afterwards  begin  to  swing  round.  As  the  officer  stepped  below, 
he  went  over  the  side.  When  he  called  out  to  have  the  painter 
let  go  though,  he  was  told  to  wait  a  bit,  and  directly  a  small 
parcel  of  tobacco  was  handed  down,  and  the  same  officer,  looking 
over  the  rail,  asked, 

"Did  you  say  the  Lucretia  Ann?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir;  Lucreetshy  Ann,  of  Sag-Harbor." 

"Mr.  Starrboard,  I  believe." 

"  <  Buck '  sir,  l  buck.'     How  about  this  'backey  ?  " 

The  lieutenant,  raising  his  head,  his  cap,  striking  the  main- 
sheet  as  it  was  being  hauled  down,  was  knocked  off  and  fell  into 
the  water,  when  one  of  the  whalers  immediately  lanced  it  and 
held  it  up  dripping. 

"  Hallo,  mister ;  I  say,  what  shall  we  do  with  this  cap  ?  Did 
you  mean  ter  throw  it  in." 

The  officer  once  more  looked  over  the  side,  with  half  a  dozen 
grinning  middies,  and  imperturbably  dignified,  replied, 

"You  will  do  me  the  favor  to  present  it  to  captain  Buck,  and 
say  to  him,  if  you  please,  that  when  he  wishes  to  communicate 
with  one  of  Her  Majesty's  ships  again,  it  will  be  proper  for  him 
to  do  so  in  person." 

"Oh,  certainly — oh,  yes ;  good  night  to  yer.  Here,  let's  have 
that  cap.  Give  way,  now,  boys,"  so  saying  he  clapped  it  on  the 


A  GALE.  11 


top  of  his  old  souwester,  and  as  the  frigate  forged  ahead,  the  boat 
dropped  astern,  and  was  pulled  back  to  the  Lucretia  Ann. 

We  had  only  three  days  of  bad  "weather,"  and  those  we  en- 
joyed, I  think,  quite  as  much  as  any.  The  storm  was  preceded 
by  some  twenty-four  hours  of  a  clear,  fresh  north-wester,  driving 
us  along  on  our  course  with  foaming,  sparkling  and  most  exhil- 
arating speed.  It  gives  a  fine  sensation  to  be  so  borne  along,  like 
that  of  riding  a  great,  powerful  and  spirited  horse,  or  of  dashing 
yourself  through  the  crashing  surf,  and  in  your  own  body  breast- 
ing away  the  billows  as  they  sweep  down  upon  you.  Gradually 
it  grew  more  and  more  ahead,  and  blew  harder  and  harder. 
When  we  came  on  deck  early  in  the  morning,  the  horizon  seemed 
within  a  stone's  throw,  and  there  was  a  grand  sight  of  dark 
marbled  swelling  waves,  rushing  on  tumultuously,  crowding  away 
and  trampling  under  each  other,  as  if  panic-struck  by  the  grey, 
lowering,  misty  clouds  that  were  sweeping  down  with  an  appear- 
ance of  intense  mysterious  purpose  over  them.  The  expression 
was  of  vehement  energy  blindly  directed.  The  ship,  lying-to 
under  the  smallest  storm-stay-sail,  seemed  to  have  composed  her- 
self for  a  trial,  and,  neither  advancing  nor  shrinking,  rose  and 
fell  with  more  than  habitual  ease  and  dignity.  Having  been 
previously  accustomed  only  to  the  fidgety  movements  of  a  smaller 
class  of  vessels,  I  was  greatly  surprised  and  impressed  by  her 
deliberate  movements ;  the  quietness  and  simplicity  with  which 
she  answered  the  threats  of  the  turbulent  elements. 

"If  only  that  north-wester  had  continued" — every  body  is 
saying — "we  might  have  been  in  Liverpool  by  this."  It's  not 
unfashionable  yet  at  sea  to  talk  about  the  weather.  I  am  to 
write  about  what  is  most  interesting  us  ?  Well,  the  wind  and 
weather.  Bad  time  when  it  comes  to  that  ?  Well,  now,  here 
I  am,  sitting  on  a  trunk,  bracing  myself  between  two  berths, 


12  A^  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

with  my  portfolio  on  my  knees — imagine  the  motion  of  the 
vessel,  the  flickering,  inconstant  half-light  that  comes  through  a 
narrow  piece  of  inch-thick  glass,  which  the  people  on  deck  are 
constantly  crossing ;  exclamations  from  them,  dash  of  waves  and 
creaking  of  timber,  and  various  noises  both  distracting  and  stupe- 
fying, and  if  you  can't  understand  the  difficulty  of  thinking  con- 
nectedly, you  may  begin  to  that  of  writing. 

John's  eyes  have  been  bad,  and  we  have  read  aloud  with  him 
a  good  deal ;  but  it  is  hard  work  even  to  read  on  board  ship. 
We  have  listened  to  a  good  deal  of  music,  and  to  a  bad  deal,  and 
had  a  few  staggering  hops  with  the  ladies  on  the  quarter  deck. 
"We  contrived  a  set  of  chess-men,  cutting  them  out  of  card-board, 
fitting  them  with  cork  pedestals,  and  a  pin-point  to  attach  them 
to  the  board  so  they  would  not  slip  off  or  blow  away.  Charley 
has  had  some  capital  games,  and  I  believe  found  his  match  with 
Dr.  M.,  one  of  the  cabin  passengers  returning  home  from  the 
East  Indies  by  way  of  California,  who  proposes  to  introduce  him 
at  the  London  chess  club. 

I  told  you  in  my  letter  by  the  pilot-boat,  how  we  had  been 
humbugged  about  the  second  cabin.  While  this  has  reduced  the 
cost  of  our  passage  to  a  very  small  sum,  we  have  had  almost 
every  comfort  that  we  should  have  asked.  Our  room  is  con- 
siderably more  spacious,  having  been  intended  for  a  family 
apartment,  and  has  the  advantage  of  much  less  motion  than  those 
of  the  first  cabin.  For  a  ship's  accommodations  it  has,  too,  a 
quite  luxurious  degree  of  ventilation  and  light.  There  is  a  large 
port  in  it  that  we  can  open  at  pleasure,  having  only  been  obliged 
to  close  it  during  two  nights  of  the  gale.  Our  stores  have  held 
out  well,  and  the  cook  has  served  us  excellently. 

We  have  hardly  tasted  our  cured  meat,  and  with  this  and  our 
hard  bread  we  are  now  helping  out  some  of  our  more  unfortunate 


THE  VOYAGE.  13 


neighbors.  Split  peas  and  portable  soup  (bouillon),  with  fresh 
and  dried  fruit,  have  been  valuable  stores. 

As  the  captain  desired  us  to  use  the  quarter-deck  privileges, 
we  have  associated  as  we  pleased  with  the  first-cabin  passengers, 
and  found  several  valuable  acquaintances  among  them. 

Our  room-mate,  a  young  Irish  surgeon,  is  a  very  good  fellow, 
apparently  of  high  professional  attainments,  and  possessed  of  a 
power  of  so  concentrating  his  attention  on  a  book  or  whatever  he 
is  engaged  with,  as  not  to  be  easily  disturbed,  and  a  general 
politeness  in  yielding  to  the  tastes  of  the  majority  that  we  are 
greatly  beholden  to.  He  is  a  devoted  admirer  of  Smith  O'Brien, 
and  thinks  the  Irish  rising  of  '48  would  have  been  successful,  if 
he  [O'B.]  had  not  been  too  strictly  honest  and  honorable  a  man 
to  lead  a  popular  revolt. 

Of  his  last  winter's  passage,  in  an  emigrant  ship,  across  the 
Atlantic,  he  gives  us  a  thrilling  account. 

He  had  been  appointed  surgeon  of  a  vessel  about  to  sail  from 
a  small  port  hi  Ireland.  She  was  nearly  ready  for  sea,  the  pas- 
sengers collecting  and  stores  taken  on  board,  when  some  discov- 
ery was  made  that  involved  the  necessity  of  withdrawing  her. 
Another  ship  was  procured  from  Liverpool,  and  the  stores,  pas- 
sengers, doctor  and  all,  hastily  transferred  to  her  in  the  night, 
as  soon  as  she  arrived.  They  got  to  sea,  and  he  found  there  was 
hardly  a  particle  of  anything  in  the  medicine  chest.  He  begged 
the  captain  to  put  back,  but  the  captain  was  a  stubborn,  reckless, 
devil-may-care  fellow,  and  only  laughed  at  him.  That  very  night 
the  cholera  broke  out.  He  went  again  to  the  captain,  he  be- 
seeched  him,  he  threatened  him;  he  told  him  that  on  his  head 

must  be  the  consequences;  the  captain  didn't  care  a rope 

yarn  for  the  consequences,  he  would  do  anything  else  to  oblige 
the  doctor,  but  go  back  ?  not  he !  The  doctor  turned  the  pigs 
out  of  the  long-boat,  and  made  a  temporary  hospital  of  it.  It 


14  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

was  a  cold  place,  but  anything  was  better  than  that  horrible 
steerage.  Nevertheless,  down  into  the  steerage  the  doctor  would 
himself  go  every  morning,  nor  leave  it  till  every  soul  had  gone 
or  been  carried  on  deck  before  him.  He  searched  the  ship  for 
something  he  could  make  medicine  of.  The  carpenter's  chalk 
was  the  only  thing  that  turned  up.  This  he  calcined  and  saved, 
to  be  used  sparingly.  He  forced  those  who  were  the  least  sea- 
sick to  become  nurses ;  convalescents,  and  those  with  less  danger- 
ous illness,  he  placed  beds  for  on  the  galley  and  the  hen-coops, 
and  made  the  captain  give  up  his  fowls  and  other  delicacies  to 
them.  Fortunately  fair  weather  continued,  and  with  sleepless 
vigilance  and  strength,  as  it  seemed  to  him  almost  miraculously 
sustained,  he  continued  to  examine  and  send  on  deck  for  some 
hours  each  day,  every  one  of  the  three  hundred  passengers.  On 
the  first  cholera  symptoms  appearing,  he  gave  the  patient  chalk, 
and  continued  administering  it  in  small  but  frequent  doses  until 
the  spasmodic  crisis  commenced ;  thence  he  troubled  him  only 
with  hot  fomentations.  The  third  day  out  a  man  died  and  was 
buried.  The  captain  read  the  funeral  service,  and  after  the 
body  had  disappeared  beneath  the  blue  water,  the  doctor  took 
advantage  of  the  solemn  moment  again  to  appeal  to  him. 

"  Captain,  there  are  three  hundred  souls  in  this  ship—" 

"  Belay  that,  doctor ;  I'll  see  every  soul  of  'em  in  Davy's 
locker,  sir,  before  I'll  put  my  ship  back." 

The  doctor  said  no  more,  but  turned  away  with  a  heavy  heart 
to  do  his  duty  as  best  he  could. 

I  cannot  describe  the  horrors  of  that  passage  as  he  would. 
Nevertheless,  as  far  as  simple  numbers  can  give  it,  you  shall 
have  the  result. 

Out  of  those  three  hundred  souls,  before  the  ship  reached 

New  York,  there  died one ;  and  he,  the  doctor  declared  most 

soberly,  was  a  very  old  man,  and  half  dead  with  a  chronic 


EMIGRANT  PASSENGERS.  15 

[something]  when  he  came  on  board.     So  much  for  burnt  chalk 
and — fresh  air ! 

But  seriously,  this  story,  (which,  as  I  have  repeated  it,  I 
believe  is  essentially  true,)  though  not  in  itself  a  painful  one,  not 
the  less  strikingly  shows  with  what  villainous  barbarity,  by  dis- 
regard or  evasion  of  the  laws  of  England,  and  the  neglect  or 
connivance  of  the  port  officers,  the  emigrant  traffic  is  carried  on. 
Some  of  the  accounts  of  the  three  other  medical  men  on  board, 
who  are  also  returning  from  passages  in  emigrant  ships,  would 
disgust  a  slave-trader.  They  say  that  many  of  the  passengers 
will  never  go  on  deck  unless  they  are  driven  or  carried,  and  fre- 
quently the  number  of  these  is  so  great,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
force  them  out  of  their  berths,  and  they  sometimes  lie  in  them  in 
the  most  filthy  manner  possible,  without  ever  stepping  out  from 
the  first  heave  of  the  sickening  sea  till  the  American  pilot  is 
received  on  board.  Then  their  wives,  husbands,  children,  as  the 
case  may  be,  who  have  served  them  with  food  during  their  pros- 
tration, get  them  up,  and,  if  they  can  afford  it,  change  their 
garments,  throwing  the  old  ones,  with  the  bed  and  its  accumula- 
tions, overboard.  So,  as  any  one  may  see,  from  a  dozen  ships  a 
day  often  in  New  York,  they  come  ashore  with  no  disease  but 
want  of  energy,  but  emaciated,  enfeebled,  infected,  and  covered 
with  vermin.  When  we  observe  the  listlessness,  even  cheerful- 
ness, with  which  they  accept  the  precarious  and  dog-like  subsist- 
ence which,  while  in  this  condition,  the  already  crowded  city 
affords  them,  we  see  the  misery  and  degradation  to  which  they 
must  have  been  habituated  in  their  native  land.  When  in  a  year 
afterwards  we  find  that  the  same  poor  fellows  are  plainly  growing 
active,  hopeful,  enterprising,  prudent,  and,  if  they  have  been 
favorably  situated,  cleanly,  tidy,  and  actually  changing  to  their 
very  bones  as  it  seems — tight,  elastic,  well-knit  muscles  taking 
the  place  of  flabby  flesh,  as  ambition  and  blessed  discontent  take 


16  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  EXGLAXD. 

the  place  of  stupid  indifference — we  can  infer  with  some  confi- 
dence what  was  at  the  bottom  of  their  previous  debasement, 

Dr.  M.  gives  much  happier  accounts  of  the  English  govern- 
mental emigrant  ships  to  Australia,  in  which  he  has  made  two 
voyages.  Some  few  of  their  arrangements  are  so  entirely  com- 
mendable, and  so  obviously  demanded  by  every  consideration  of 
decency,  humanity,  and  virtue,  that  I  can  only  wonder  that  the 
law  does  not  require  all  emigrant  vessels  to  adopt  them.  Among 
these,  that  which  is  most  plainly  required,  is  the  division  of  the 
steerage  into  three  compartments:  married  parties  with  their 
children  in  the  central  one,  and  unmarried  men  and  women 
having  separate  sleeping  accommodations  in  the  other  two. 

The  others  of  our  midship  passengers  are  mostly  English 
artisans,  or  manufacturing  workmen.  There  are  two  or  three 
farmers,  a  number  of  Irish  servants,  male  and  female,  and  several 
nondescript  adventurers;  two  Scotchmen  only,  brothers,  both 
returning  from  Cuba  sugar  plantations,  where  they  have  been 
employed  as  engineers.  They  tell  us  the  people  there  are  all 
for  annexation  to  the  United  States ;  but  as  they  cannot  speak 
Spanish,  their  information  on  this  point  cannot  be  very  extensive. 
Besides  ourselves,  there  is  but  one  American-born  person  among 
them.  She  is  a  young  woman  of  quite  superior  mind,  fair  and 
engaging,  rather  ill  in  health,  going  to  England  in  hopes  to  im- 
prove it,  and  to  visit  some  family  friends  there.  The  young  men 
are  all  hoping  the  ship  will  be  wrecked,  so  they  can  have  the 
pleasure  of  saving  her,  or  dying  in  the  attempt.  One  goes  into 
the  main-chains  and  sits  there  for  several  hours,  all  alone,  every 
fine  day,  for  no  other  reason  that  we  can  conceive,  but  to  drop 
himself  easily  into  the  water  after  her,  in  case  she  should  fall 
overboard.  There  are  three  or  four  other  women,  and  as  many 
babies  and  little  boys  and  girls.  They  do  not  cry  very  often,  but 


A  NOTABLE  CHARACTER.  17 

are  generally  in  high  spirits,  always  in  the  way,  frolicking  or 
eating,  much  fondled  and  scolded,  and  very  dirty. 

The  most  notable  character  in  our  part  of  the  ship,  is  one  Dr. 
T.,  another  returning  emigrant  physician.  He  appears  to  have 
been  well  educated,  and  is  of  a  wealthy  Irish  family.  His 
diploma  is  signed  by  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  whose  autograph  we 
have  thus  seen.  Though  a  young  man,  he  is  all  broken  down  in 
spirit  and  body  from  hard  drinking.  He  makes  himself  a  buffoon 
for  the  amusement  of  the  passengers ;  and  some  of  the  young 
men  of  the  first  cabin  are  wicked  enough  to  reward  him  some- 
times with  liquor,  which  makes  him  downright  crazy.  Even  the 
pale-faced  student,  who  kept  his  neighbors  awake  with  his  mid- 
night prayers  while  he  was  sea-sick,  has  participated  in  this  cruel 
fun.  Dr.  T.  has  been  "  smutten,"  as  the  second  mate  says,  by  a 
young  lady  of  the  first  cabin,  who  does  not  altogether  discourage 
his  gallant  attentions.  He  keeps  up  the  habits  of  a  gentleman  in 
the  reduction  of  his  circumstances,  eating  his  dinner  at  four 
o'clock,  (being  thus  enabled  to  cook  it  while  the  first-cabin  people 
are  below  eating  theirs,  which  is  served  at  half-past  three).  He 
declares  it  was  only  to  oblige  the  owners  that  he  took  a  berth  in 
the  second  cabin,  and  he  certainly  should  not  have  done  so,  if  he 
had  suspected  the  promiscuous  character  of  the  company  he 
should  be  associated  with  there.  The  forenoon  he  spends  in 
combing  his  hair  and  whiskers,  cleaning  his  threadbare  coat, 
smoothing  his  crushed  hat,  and  polishing  his  shoes.  Now,  indeed, 
since  he  has  become  conscious  of  the  tender  passion,  and  can  feed 
on  love,  he  has  traded  off  a  part  of  his  stock  of  bread  for  a  pair 
of  boots,  which  enables  him  to  dispense  with  stockings  and  straps, 
much  to  his  relief  in  dances  and  fencing  bouts.  Towards  noon 
he  comes  on  deck  with  his  coat  buttoned  to  the  neck ;  he  wears 
a  stock  and  no  collar;  his  hat  is  set  on  rakishly;  he  has  a  yellow 
kid  glove  for  his  right  hand,  the  thumb  only  is  missing — his 
2 


18  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

thumb,  therefore,  is  stuck  under  the  breast  of  his  coat,  allowing 
the  rest  to  be  advantageously  displayed ;  his  other  hand  is  carried 
habitually  in  the  mode  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  under  the  skirt  of  his 
coat.  He  has  in  his  mouth  the  stump  of  a  cigar  that  he  found 
last  night  upon  the  deck,  and  has  saved  for  the  occasion.  After 
walking  until  it  is  smoked  out  with  the  gentlemen — to  whom  he 
manages  to  give  the  impression  that  he  has  just  finished  his 
breakfast — he  approaches,  with  a  really  elegant  air,  to  the  ladies, 
and,  gracefully  bowing,  inquires  after  their  health.  Then,  after 
gazing  upwards  at  the  sun  a  moment,  he  takes  the  attitude, 
"  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,"  his  left  hand  hidden  under  his  right 
arm,  and,  in  a  deep,  tremulous  voice,  says,  "  Ourre  nooble  bar- 
ruck  still  cleaves  the  breeny  ailiment,  and  bears  us  on  with 
velucitay  'twarrd  th'  expectant  shoorres  of  Albeeon's  eel.  Ah ! 
what  a  grrand  expanse  it  is  of  weeld-washing  waterrers !  De- 
leeghtful  waytherr,  'pon  my  worrud."  He  is  a  good  fencer, 
boxer,  card  player,  and  trickster;  a  safe  waltzer,  even  in  a 
rolling  ship ;  and  when  half-seas  over,  dances  a  jig,  hornpipe,  or 
pas  seulj  and  turns  a  pirouette  on  the  top  of  the  capstan ;  plays  a 
cracked  clarionet,  and  can  get  something  out  of  every  sort  of  mu- 
sical instrument ;  he  spouts  theatrically,  gives  imitations  of  living 
actors,  sings  every  thing,  improvises,  and  on  Sunday  chants  from 
the  prayer-book,  so  that  even  then  the  religiously  inclined  may 
conscientiously  enjoy  his  entertainment.  A  most  rare  treasure 
for  a  long  passage !  Some  of  our  passengers  declare  they  would 
have  died  of  dullness  if  it  had  not  been  for  him. 

There  is  another  Irishman  (from  the  North),  who  has  written 
a  poem  as  long  as  Paradise  Lost,  the  manuscript  of  which  he 
keeps  under  lock  and  key,  in  a  small  trunk,  at  the  head  of  his 
bed,  and,  as  they  say,  fastened  to  a  life-preserver.  It  is  never 
out  of  his  head,  however,  and  he  manages  to  find  something  to 
quote  from  it  appropriate  to  every  occasion.  You  might  suppose 


A  POET— A  CHARACTER.  19 

he  would  be  made  use  of  as  a  butt,  but  somehow  he  is  only  re- 
garded as  a  bore.  I  incline  to  think  him  a  true  poet,  for  he  is  a 
strange  fellow,  often  blundering,  stupidly  as  it  seems,  upon  "good 
hits,"  and,  however  inconsistently,  always  speaking  with  the  con- 
fidence of  true  inspiration.  We  have  a  godless  set  around  us, 
and  he  is  very  impatient  of  their  card-playing  and  profanity — 
particularly  if  the  weather  is  at  all  bad — declaring  that  he  is  not 
superstitious,  but  that  he  thinks,  if  a  man  is  ever  to  stand  by  his 
faith,  it  should  be  when  he  is  in  the  midst  of  the  awful  ocean, 
and  in  an  unlucky  ship.  "  Nay,"  he  asserts  again,  "  he  is  not  su- 
perstitious, and  no  one  must  accuse  him  of  it,  but  if  he  were  not 
principled  against  it,  he  would  lay  a  large  wager  that  this  ship 
never  does  arrive  at  her  destined  port."  His  poem  runs  some- 
what upon  socialism,  whether  approvingly  or  condemnatory,  I 
have  not  yet  been  able  quite  to  understand.  I  rather  think  he 
has  a  scheme  of  his  own  for  remodeling  society.  He  uses  a  good 
deal  of  religious  phraseology ;  he  is  liberal  on  doctrinal  points, 
does  not  enlist  under  any  particular  church  banner,  and  says 
himself,  that  he  can  bear  "  any  sort  of  religion  [or  irreligion]  in 
a  man,  so  he  is  not  a  papist."  Towards  all  persons  of  the  Roman 
church,  he  entertains  the  most  orthodox  contempt  and  undisguised 
hatred,  as  becomes,  in  his  opinion,  an  Irish  Protestant-born  man. 
There  is  a  good-natured  fellow,  who  has  been  a  flat-boatman 
on  the  Mississippi,  and  more  lately  a  squatter  somewhere  in  the 
wilds  of  the  West.  His  "painter"  and  cat-fish  stories,  with  all 
his  reckless  airs  and  cant  river  phrases,  have  much  entertained 
us ;  of  course  he  has  no  baggage,  but  a  "  heap  of  plunder."  He 
has  a  rough,  rowdy,  blustering,  half  barbarous  way  with  him,  and 
you  would  judge  from  his  talk  sometimes,  that  he  was  a  perfectly 
lawless,  heartless  savage ;  yet,  again,  there  is  often  evident  in  his 
behavior  to  individuals  a  singularly  delicate  sense  of  propriety 
and  fitness,  and  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  ship  with  whom  I  would 


20  AX  AXERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

sooner  trust  the  safety  of  a  woman  or  child  in  a  time  of  peril. 
The  great  fault  of  the  man  is  his  terrific  and  uncontrollable  indig- 
nation at  any  thing  which  seems  to  him  mean  or  unjust,  and  his 
judgment  or  insight  of  narrow-mindedness  is  not  trustworthy. 

He  has  formed  a  strong  friendship,  or  cronyship,  for  an  Eng- 
lishman on  board,  who  is  a  man  of  about  the  same  native  intelli- 
gence, but  a  strange  contrast  to  him  in  manner,  appearance,  and 
opinions,  being  short,  thick-set,  slow  of  speech,  and  husky-voiced. 
He  is  a  stone-cutter  by  trade,  and  returns  to  England  because,  as 
he  says,  there  is  no  demand  for  so  fine  work  as  he  is  able  to  do, 
in  America,  and  he  will  be  better  paid  in  London.  These  two 
men  are  always  together,  and  always  quarreling.  Indeed,  the 
Englishman  has,  with  his  slowness  and  obstinate  deafness  to 
reason  on  any  matter  that  he  has  once  stated  his  views  of,  an 
endless  battery  of  logic  and  banterings  to  reply  to,  for  he  is  the 
only  defender  of  an  aristocratic  form  of  government  amongst  us ; 
every  other  man,  Irish,  Scotch,  or  English,  being  a  thorough- 
going, violent,  radical  democrat.  Most  of  them,  indeed,  claim 
the  name  of  red  republican,  and  carry  their  ideas  of  "  liberty " 
far  beyond  any  native  American  I  have  known.  What  is  more 
remarkable  and  painful,  nearly  all  of  them,  except  the  Irish,  are 
professedly  Deists  or  Atheists,  or  something  of  the  sort,  for  all 
their  ideas  are  evidently  most  crude  and  confused  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  amount  to  nothing  but  pity,  hatred,  or  contempt  for  all 
religious  people,  as  either  fools  or  hypocrites,  impostors  or  imposed 
upon.  There  is  only  one  of  them  who  seems  to  have  ever  thought 
upon  the  matter  at  all  carefully,  or  to  be  able  to  argue  upon  it, 
and  he  is  so  self-satisfied  (precisely  what  he  says,  by  the  way,  of 
every  one  who  argues  against  him),  that  he  never  stops  'arguing, 
while  a  hearer  remains. 

A  remark  of  one  of  the  farmers,  an  Englishman,  and  a  very 
sensible  fellow,  upon  these  sentiments  so  generally  held  among 


CHRISTIANITY.  21 


our  company,  seemed  to  me  true  and  well  expressed.  I  think 
my  observation  of  the  lower  class  of  Englishmen  in  the  United 
States  generally  confirms  it.  "  I  have  often  noticed  of  my  coun- 
trymen," said  he,  "  that  when  they  cease  to  honor  the  king,  they 
no  longer  fear  God."  That  is,  as  I  understand  it,  when  they  are 
led  to  change  the  political  theory  in  which  they  have  been  in- 
structed, they  must  lose  confidence  in  a  religious  creed  which 
they  owe  about  equally  to  the  circumstances  of  their  birth,  nei- 
ther having  been  adopted  from  a  rational  process  in  their  own 
minds.  Seeing  the  childish  absurdity  of  many  forms  which  they 
have  been  trained  to  consider  necessary,  natural,  and  ordered  of 
God,  they  lose  confidence  in  all  their  previous  ideas  that  have 
resulted  from  a  merely  receptive  education,  and  religion  and  roy- 
alty are  classed  together  as  old-fashioned  notions,  nursery  bug- 
bears, and  romances.  It  is  partly  the  result  of  the  abominable 
masquerade  of  words  which  is  still  constantly  played  off  in  Eng- 
land on  all  public  occasions,  clothing  government  with  antiquated 
false  forms  of  sacredness.  The  simple  majesty  and  holy  authority 
that  depends  on  the  exercise  of  justice,  love,  and  good  judgment, 
so  far  from  being  made  more  imposing  by  this  mummery,  is  lost 
sight  of;  while  all  the  folly,  indiscretion,  and  injustice  of  the 
administration  of  the  law  by  fallible  and  unsanctified  agents,  is 
inevitably  associated  in  the  minds  of  the  ignorant  with  all  that  is 
holy  and  true. 

The  only  idea  now,  these,  our  shipmates,  entertain  of  Chris- 
tianity, seems  to  be,  that  it  is  the  particular  humbug  by  which 
the  clergy  make  the  people  think  that  they  must  support  them  in 
purple  and  fine  linen,  just  as  royalty  is  the  humbug  on  which  the 
Queen  is  borne,  and  government  the  humbug  by  which  the  aris- 
tocracy are  carried  on  their  shoulders :  all,  of  course,  in  combina- 
tion. And  nothing  would  convince  them  of  the  sincerity  of  the 
clergy  short  of  their  martyrdom — even  that,  I  fear,  should  th< 


22  ^.y  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

time  come  for  them  to  act  as  judges,  they  would  rather  attribute 
to  pride,  or,  at  best,  to  an  exceptional  deluded  mind.  With  these 
ideas,  nothing  but  thorough  contempt  for  him,  or  fear  of  punish- 
ment, would  prevent  them  from  putting  a  bishop  to  the  test  of 
the  stake,  if  he  should  fall  into  their  hands. 


OUR  SHIP'S  CREW.  23 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Sailors  —  "  Sogers  " — Books  —  Anecdotes. 

IF  the  purport  of  my  title  would  permit  it,  I  should  like  to 
write  a  long  chapter  on  our  ship's  crew,  and  the  general  sub- 
ject of  American  officers  and  seamen.  I  will,  however,  but  give, 
in  this  one  word,  my  testimony,  as  one  having  had  some  experi- 
ence, to  the  tyranny,  barbarity,  and  lawlessness  with  which  in  most 
of  our  merchant  ships  the  common  seamen  are  treated ;  and  the 
vice,  misery,  and  hopelessness  to  which,  as  a  body,  they  are  left 
on  our  shores,  by  the  neglect  or  ill-judged  and  parsimonious 
assistance  of  those  who  compass  sea  and  land  to  make  proselytes 
of  the  foreign  heathen. 

Our  ship's  crew,  as  is  usual  in  a  Liverpool  packet,  are  nearly 
all  foreigners — English,  Scotch,  Irish,  Danes,  French,  and  Por- 
tuguese. One  boasts  of  being  "  half-Welsh  and  \ia\f-Heelander" 
Judging  from  this  specimen,  I  have  not  a  very  high  opinion  of 
the  cross.  The  mate  is  a  Dane,  the  second  and  third  mates  Con- 
necticut men.  The  captain,  also,  is  from  somewhere  "  down  east." 
He  is  a  good  and  careful  seaman,  courteous  in  his  manners,  and 
a  religious  man ;  much  more  consistently  so  than  pious  captains 
whom  I  have  known  before  proved  to  be,  after  getting  on  blue 
water.  He  never  speaks  to  the  seamen,  or  directly  has  any  thing 


24  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

to  do  with  them.  In  fact,  except  when  he  is  taking  observations, 
or  in  bad  weather,  or  an  emergency,  you  would  never  see  in  him 
any  thing  but  a  floating-hotel  keeper.  It  is  plain,  nevertheless, 
that  his  eye  is  everywhere,  and  a  single  incident  will  show  that 
the  savage  custom  of  the  sea  has  not  been  without  the  usual 
influence  upon  him.  He  went  to  the  kitchen  the  other  day  and 
told  the  cook  he  must  burn  less  wood.  The  cook,  who  is  a  pecu- 
liarly mild,  polite,  peaceable  little  Frenchman,  replied  that  he 
had  been  careful  not  to  use  more  than  was  necessary.  The  cap- 
tain immediately  knocked  him  down,  and  then  quietly  remarking, 
"  You'll  take  care  how  you  answer  me  the  next  time,"  walked 
back  to  join  the  ladies.  The  cook  fell  on  the  stove,  and  was 
badly  burned  and  bruised. 

The  men  complain  that  their  food  is  stinted  and  poor,  and  they 
are  worked  hard,  at  least  they  are  kept  constantly  at  work ;  men 
never  exert  themselves  much  when  that  is  the  case.  It  has  been 
evident  to  me  that  they  all  soger  systematically.  (Sogering  is 
pretending  to  work,  and  accomplishing  as  little  as  possible.)  It 
is  usually  considered  an  insult  to  accuse  one  of  it,  but  one  day  I 
saw  a  man  so  evidently  trying  to  be  as  long  as  he  could  at  some 
work  he  had  to  do  in  the  rigging,  that  I  said  to  him : 

"  Do  you  think  you'll  make  eight  bells  of  that  job  ?" 

He  looked  up  with  a  twirl  of  his  tongue,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Have  you  been  at  it  all  the  watch?" 

"  Ay,  sir,  I  have: ' 

"  A  smart  man  would  have  done  it  in  an  hour,  I  should  think." 

"  Perhaps  he  might." 

"  Do  you  call  yourself  a  soger?" 

"  Why,  sir,  we  all  soger,  reg'lar,  in  this  here  craft.  D'ye  see, 
sir,  the  capten's  a  mean  man,  and  'ould  like  to  get  two  days  work 
in  one  out  on  us.  If  he'd  give  us  watch-and-watch,  sir,  there'd 
be  more  work  done,  you  mote  be  sure,  sir." 


SAILORS'  ETHICS.  25 


Sunday  is  observed  by  sparing  the  crew  from  all  labor  not  nec- 
essary to  the  sailing  of  the  ship,  but  as  it  is  the  only  day  in  which 
they  have  watch-and-watch,  or  time  enough  to  attend  to  such 
matters,  they  are  mostly  engaged  in  washing  and  mending  their 
clothes.  "We  had  selected  a  number  of  books  at  the  Tract-house, 
which  we  gave  away  among  them.  They  were  received  with 
gratitude,  and  the  pictures  at  least  read  with  interest.  The 
printed  matter  was  read  somewhat  also ;  I  noticed  three  men  sit- 
ting close  together,  all  spelling  out  the  words  from  three  different 
books,  and  speaking  them  aloud,  in  a  low,  monotonous  tone.  If 
they  had  come  to  a  paragraph  in  Latin,  I  doubt  if  they  would 
have  understood  what  they  read  any  less.  The  truth  is,  as  I 
have  often  noticed  with  most  sailors,  a  book  is  a  book,  and  they 
read  it  for  the  sake  of  reading,  not  for  the  ideas  the  words  are 
intended  to  convey,  just  as  some  people  like  to  work  out  mathe- 
matical problems  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  work,  not  because  they 
wish  to  make  use  of  the  result.  I  saw  a  sailor  once  bargaining 
with  a  shipmate  for  his  allowance  of  grog,  offering  him  for  it  a 
little  book,  which  he  said  was  "  first-rate  reading."  After  the 
bargain  was  closed,  I  looked  at  the  book.  It  was  a  volume  of 
Temperance  tales.  The  man  had  no  idea  of  making  a  practical 
joke,  and  assured  me,  with  a  grave  face,  that  he  had  read  it  all 
through.  One  Sunday,  in  the  latter  part  of  a  passage  from  the 
East  Indies,  one  of  my  watchmates,  an  old  sea-dog,  closed  a  little 
carefully  preserved  Testament,  and  slapping  it  on  his  knee,  said, 
with  a  triumphant  air,  as  if  henceforth  there  was  laid  up  for  him 
a  crown  of  glory  and  no  mistake :  "  There !  I've  read  that  book 
through,  every  word  on't,  this  v'yage ;  and,  damn  me,  if  I  han't 
got  more  good  out  on't  than  I  should  'a  got  going  aft  long  with 
the  rest  on  ye,  to  hear  that  old  Pharisee  (the  captain)  make  his 
long  prayers."  Then  after  gazing  at  it  a  few  moments,  he  added, 
musingly,  as  if  reflecting  on  the  mutability  of  human  affairs,  "  I 


26  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

hook't  that  book  from  a  feller  named  Abe  Williams,  to  the  Home, 
down  to  Providence,  'bout  five  year  ago.  His  name  was  in't,  but 
I  tore  it  out,  I  wonder  what's  become  on  him  now;  dead — as 
like  as  not,"  (puts  it  up  and  takes  out  his  pipe;)  "well,  God'll 
have  mercy  on  his  soul,  I  hope." 


CAPE  CLEAR  —  GALE.  27 


CHAPTER  IV. 

On  Soundings  —  English  Small  Craft  —  Harbor  of  Liverpool. 

Sunday,  May  25th. 

A  T  sunset  yesterday  the  mate  went  to  the  royal  yard  to  look 
•^T"  for  land,  but  could  not  see  it.  By  our  reckoning,  we  were 
off  Mizzen  Head,  a  point  to  the  westward  of  Cape  Clear,  steer- 
ing east  by  south,  fresh  wind  and  rising,  going  nine  knots,  thick 
weather  and  rain.  Several  gannets  (a  kind  of  goose  with  white 
body  and  black  wings)  were  about  us.  Some  one  said  they  would 
probably  go  to  land  to  spend  the  night,  and  there  was  pleasure 
in  being  so  made  to  realize  our  vicinity  to  it.  Several  vessels 
were  in  sight,  all  running  inside  us,  and  steering  northeast.  We 
thought  our  captain  over  anxious  to  give  Cape  Clear  a  wide  berth, 
and  were  sorry  not  to  make  the  land  before  dark.  After  sunset 
it  grew  thicker,  and  the  wind,  which  had  been  increasing  all  day, 
by  midnight  was  a  gale.  We  got  in  all  sail  but  the  reefed  top- 
sails ;  then  hove-to,  and  found  bottom  in  fifty-five  fathoms.  I 
was  quite  satisfied  now  with  the  captain's  prudence ;  the  sea  was 
running  high,  and  the  crags  of  Ireland  could  not  be  many  miles 
distant.  As  it  was,  I  felt  perfectly  safe,  and  turned  in,  sleeping 
soundly  till  nine  o'clock  this  morning.  About  an  hour  later,  they 
made  the  light  on  the  old  Head  of  Kinsale,  where  the  Albion 


28  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

was  lost  some  thirty  years  since.  The  captain  says  we  passed 
within  ten  miles  of  Cape  Clear  light  without  seeing  it.  He  was 
just  right  in  his  reckoning,  and  the  vessels  that  went  inside  of  us 
were  all  wrong,  and  he  thinks  must  have  got  into  trouble.  We 
are  now  nearly  up  to  Waterford,  and  off  a  harbor  where,  many 
years  ago,  a  frigate  was  lost,  with  fifteen  hundred  men.  It  is 
foggy  yet,  and  we  can  only  see  the  loom  of  the  land. 

Monday,  May  27th. 

The  Channel  yesterday  was  thick  with  vessels,  and  I  was 
much  interested  in  watching  them.  A  collier  brig,  beating  down 
Channel,  passed  close  under  our  stern.  We  were  going  along  so 
steadily  before  it  that  I  had  not  before  thought  of  the  violence 
of  the  wind.  It  was  surprising  to  see  how  she  was  tossed  about. 
Plunging  from  the  height  of  the  sea,  her  white  figure-head  would 
divide  the  water  and  entirely  disappear,  and  for  a  moment  it 
would  seem  as  if  some  monster  below  had  seized  her  bowsprit, 
and  was  taking  her  down  head  foremost ;  then  her  stern  would 
drop,  and  a  white  sheet  of  spray  dash  up,  wetting  her  foresail 
almost  to  the  foretop ;  then  she  would  swing  up  again,  and  on  the 
crest  of  the  billow  seem  to  stop  and  shake  herself,  as  a  dog  does 
on  coming  out  of  the  surf;  then,  as  the  wind  acted  on  her,  she 
would  fall  suddenly  over  to  the  leeward,  and  a  long  curtain  of 
white  foam  from  the  scuppers  would  be  dropped  over  her  glisten- 
ing black  sides.  It  was  very  beautiful,  and  from  our  quiet  though 
rapid  progress,  showed  the  superior  comfort  of  a  large  ship  very 
strikingly.  We  have  not  rolled  or  pitched  enough  during  all  the 
passage  to  make  it  necessary  to  lash  the  furniture  in  our  room. 
Afterwards,  we  saw  a  Welsh  schooner,  then  a  French  lugger, 
with  three  masts,  then  a  cutter  with  one,  all  quite  different  in  rig 
and  cut  of  sail  from  any  tiling  we  ever  see  on  our  coast. 

About  four  o'clock,  we  sighted  Tuscar  light,  and  could  see  be- 
yond it,  through  the  fog,  a  dark,  broken  streak,  on  which  we  im- 


ENGLISH  CHANNEL.  29 


agined  (as  the  dull-eyed  said)  darker  spots  of  wood  and  lighter 
spots  of  houses,  and  which  we  called  Ireland.  We  saw  also,  at 
some  distance,  the  steamer  which  left  Liverpool  the  day  before, 
for  Cork.  She  was  very  long  and  low,  and  more  clipper-like  in 
her  appearance  than  our  sea-going  steamers  of  the  same  class. 
At  sunset  we  were  out  of  sight  of  land  again  and  driving  on  at 
a  glorious  rate,  passing  rapidly  by  several  large  British  ships 
going  .the  same  course. 

I  was  up  two  or  three  times  during  the  night,  and  found  the 
captain  all  the  while  on  deck  in  his  India-rubber  clothes,  the  mate 
on  the  forecastle,  look-outs  aloft,  every  thing  drawing  finely,  and 
nothing  to  be  seen  around  us  but  fog,  foam  and  fire-flashing  surges. 
At  three  o'clock  this  morning,  John  called  me,  and  I  again  came 
on  deck.  It  was  still  misty,  but  there  was  LAND — dark  and  dis- 
tinct against  the  eastern  glow — no  more  "  imagination."  It  was 
only  a  dark  ledge  of  rocks,  with  a  white  light-house,  and  a  streak 
of  white  foam  between  it  and  the  dark  blue  of  the  sea ;  but  it 
seemed  thrillingly  beautiful.  In  a  few  minutes  the  fog  opened 
on  our  quarter,  and  disclosed,  a  few  miles  off,  a  great,  sublime 
mountain,  its  base  in  the  water,  its  head  in  the  clouds.  The  rock 
was  the  Skerrys;  the  mountain,  Holyhead.  Very  soon,  high, 
dark  hills,  piled  together  confusedly,  dimly  appeared  on  our  right 
— dimly  and  confused,  but  real,  substantial,  unmistakable,  solid 
ground — none  of  your  fog-banks.  These  were  on  the  island  of 
Anglesea.  Then,  as  the  ship  moved  slowly  on,  for  the  wind  was 
lulling,  past  the  Skerrys,  the  fog  closed  down  and  hid  it  all  again, 
and  we  went  below.  When  again  we  came  up  it  was  much 
lighter,  and  the  brown  hills  of  Anglesea  were  backed  up  by  the 
blue  mountains  of  Wales  distinct  against  the  gray  cloud  behind 
them.  Soon  a  white  dot  or  two  came  out,  and  the  brown  hill- 
sides became  green,  with  only  patches  of  dark  brown- — ploughed 
ground — real  old  mother  earth.  As  it  grew  still  lighter,  the 


30  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

white  spots  took  dark  roofs,  and  coining  to  Point  Linos,  a  tele- 
graph station  was  pointed  out ;  our  signal  was  hoisted,  and  in 
five  minutes  we  had  spoken  our  name  to  a  man  in  Liverpool. 
We  had  just  begun  to  distinguish  the  hedge-rows,  when  there  was 
a  sudden  flash  of  light,  disclosing  the  cottage  windows,  and 
Charley,  looking  east,  exclaimed,  "THE  SUN  OF  THE  OLD 
WORLD." 

A  long,  narrow,  awkward,  ugly  thing,  some  thought — a  cross 
of  a  canal  boat  with  a  Mystic  fishing-smack — with  a  single  short 
mast,  a  high-peaked  mainsail,  a  narrow  staysail,  coming  to  the 
stem-head,  and  without  any  bowsprit ;  so,  out  from  the  last  fog- 
bank,  like  an  apparition,  comes  the  pilot-boat.  Directly  she 
makes  more  sail,  and  runs  rapidly  towards  us.  Our  yatchman- 
passenger,  coming  on  deck,  calls  her  by  name,  and  says  that  she 
is  considered  a  model,  and  that  a  portrait  of  her  has  been  pub- 
lished. To  say  the  right  thing  of  her,  she  does  look  staunch  and 
weatherly  now,  the  sort  of  craft  altogether,  if  he  were  confined  to 
her  tonnage,  and  more  mindful  of  comfort  than  of  time,  that  one 
might  choose  to  make  a  winter's  cruise  in  off  Hatteras,  or  to  bang 
through  the  ice  after  Sir  John  Franklin.  The  pilot  she  has  this 
moment  sent  aboard  of  us,  does  not,  in  his  appearance,  contrast 
unfavorably  with  our  own  pilots.  He  is  an  intelligent,  burly, 
harsh-voiced  Englishman — a  trustworthy  looking  sort  of  a  man, 
only  rather  too  dressy  for  his  work.  He  brings  o  news ;  pilots 
never  do.  When  we  took  on  board  the  New  York  pilot,  in  my 
passage  from  the  East  Indies,  we  had  had  no  intelligence  from 
home  for  more  than  six  months.  The  greatest  news  the  pilot  had 
for  us,  turned  out  to  be  that  another  edition  of  Blunt's  Coast 
Pilot  was  out  I  contrived  to  keep  myself  within  earshot  of  him 
and  the  captain,  as  they  conversed  for  half  an  hour  after  he  came 
on  our  deck,  and  this  was  all  I  could  learn,  and  except  the  late 
arrivals  and  departures  and  losses  of  vessels;  this  was  all  we  got 


PILOT—  STEAM-TUG.  31 

from  him  in  two  days.  Our  Liverpool  pilot,  however,  brings  us 
a  Price  Current  and  Shipping  List,  in  which  we  find  allusion  to 
"  the  unfavorable  news  from  France,"  as  affecting  the  state  of 
trade,  but  whether  it  is  of  floods,  famine,  or  revolution,  who 
knows  ?  In  ihe  same  way,  we  understand  that  the  loyal  English 
nation  are  blessed  with  another  prince,  and  are  stopping  their 
mills  to  give  God  thanks  for  it.  There  is  a  slight  fall  in  cotton, 
too,  reported,  and  since  he  read  of  it,  our  Louisianian  has  been 
very  busy  figuring  and  writing  letters. 

After  the  pilot  came  the  first  English  shower,  ("  It's  a  fine 
day,"  says  the  boatman,  just  now  coming  on  board — we  have  had 
three  showers  since  then,)  and  then  it  fell  calm,  and  the  ship 
loitered  as  if  fatigued  with  her  long  journey.  It  is  now  noon, 
and  while  I  am  writing,  a  low,  black,  business-like  steam-tug  has 
taken  hold  of  the  ship,  and  means  to  get  her  up  to  the  docks 
before  night.  On  her  paddle-boxes  are  the  words  in  letters  once 
white,  and  the  only  thing  pretending  to  be  white  about  her,  "  The 
Steam-Tug  Company's  Boat,  No.  5,  the  LIVER  of  Liverpool." 
Long  life  to  her  then,  for  she  is  as  a  friendly  hand  stretched  out 
from  the  shore  to  welcome  us.  A  good-looking  little  scullion,  too, 
she  is,  much  better  fitted  for  her  business  than  our  New  York 
tow-boats. 

May  28th. 

We  were  several  hours  in  getting  up  to  town  yesterday,  after 
I  had  written  you.  Long  before  anything  else  could  be  seen  of 
it  but  a  thick  black  cloud — black  as  a  thunder  cloud,  and  waving 
and  darkening  one  way  and  the  other,  as  if  from  a  volcano — our 
approach  to  a  focus  of  commerce  was  evident  in  the  number  of 
elegant,  graceful,  well-equipped  and  ship-shape  looking  steamers, 
scores  of  ships — graceful,  spider-rigged  New  York  liners,  and 
sturdy  quarter-galleried,  carved  and  gilt,  pot-sided,  Bristol  built, 
stump-to'-gallant-masted  old  English  East-Indiamen,  (both  alive 


32  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

with  cheering  emigrants,  hopeful  of  Australian  and  Michiganian 
riches,  and  yet  defiant  of  sea-sickness,)  dropping  down  with  the 
tide,  or  jerked  along  by  brave  little  steam-tugs,  each  belching 
from  her  chimney,  long,  dense,  swelling  volumes  of  smoke  ;  with 
hosts  of  small  craft  lounging  lazily  along,  under  all  sorts  of  sooty 
canvass. 

These  small  craft  are  all  painted  dead  black,  and  you  cannot 
imagine  how  clumsy  they  are.  The  greater  part  of  them  are 
single  masted,  as  I  described  the  pilot-boat  to  be.  In  addition  to 
the  mainsail  and  fore-staysail  (an  in-board  jib),  they  set  a  very 
large  gaff  topsail,  hoisting  as  a  flying  sail,  with  a  gaff  crossing  the 
topmast  (like  our  men-of-war's  boat  sails)  :  their  bowsprit  is  a 
spar  rigging  out,  like  a  studding-sail  boom,  and  with  this  they 
stretch  forth  before  them  an  enormous  jib,  nearly  as  long  in  the 
foot  as  in  the  hoist,  and  of  this,  too,  before  the  wind,  some  of  them 
make  a  beam-sail.  If  it  blows  fresh,  they  can  shorten  in  their 
bowsprit,  and  set  a  smaller  jib ;  and  about  the  time  our  sloops 
would  be  knotting  their  second  reef  and  taking  their  bonnets  off, 
they  have  their  bowsprit  all  in  board,  their  long  topmast  struck, 
and  make  themselves  comfortable  under  the  staysail  and  a  two- 
reefed  mainsail.  If  it  comes  on  to  blow  still  harder,  when  ours 
must  trust  to  a  scud,  they  will  still  be  jumping  through  it  with  a 
little  storm  staysail,  and  the  mainsail  reefed  to  a  triangle. 

These  single-masted  vessels  are  called  cutters,  not  sloops,  (a 
proper  sloop  I  did  not  see  in  England ;)  and  our  word  cutter, 
wrongly  applied  to  the  revenue  schooners,  is  derived  from  the 
English  term  revenue  cutter,  the  armed  vessels  of  the  British 
preventive  service,  being  properly  cutters.  Cutters  frequently 
carry  yards  and  square  sails.  "We  saw  one  to-day  with  square 
sail,  topsail,  top-gallant  and  royal  set.  I  have  heard  old  men 
say,  that  when  they  were  boys,  our  coasting  sloops  used  to  have 
these  sails,  and  before  the  revolution,  our  small  craft  were,  not 


SAILING  CRAFT  OF  THE  CHANNEL.  33 

uncommonly,  cutter-rigged.  Instead  of  being  of  whitewashed 
cotton,  the  sails  of  the  coasters  here  are  tanned  hemp,  having  the 
appearance,  at  a  little  distance,  of  old  brown  velvet.  In  sailing 
qualities,  the  advantage  is  every  way  with  us ;  in  the  build,  the 
rig,  and  in  the  cut,  as  well  as  the  material  of  the  sails ;  for  our 
cotton  duck  will  hold  the  wind  much  the  best.  Ninety-nine  in  a 
hundred  of  our  single-masted  market-boats,  in  a  light  wind,  would 
run  around  the  fastest  coaster  in  the  Mersey  with  the  greatest 
ease.  They  are  not  calculated  for  working  to  windward  rapidly, 
but  are  stiff  and  weatherly,  and  do  very  well  for  boxing  through 
the  Channel,  I  suppose ;  but  for  such  business  we  should  rig 
schooner  fashion,  and  save  the  expense  of  an  extra  hand,  which 
must  be  wanted  to  handle  their  heavy  mainsail  and  boom.  Fur- 
ther up,  we  saw,  on  the  beach,  several  cutter-rigged  yachts. 
They  were  wide  of  beam,  broad  sterned,  sharp  built,  and  deep, 
like  our  sea-going  clippers. 

The  immediate  shores  grew  low  as  we  entered  the  Mersey. 
It  was  nearly  calm;  but  though  the  surface  of  the  water  was 
glassy  smooth,  it  was  still  heaving  with  the  long  muscular  swell 
of  the  sea  until  we  reached  the  town.  We  approached  nearer 
the  land,  where,  on  the  right  hand,  there  was  a  bluff  point,  bare 
of  trees,  with  large  rocks  cropping  out  at  its  base ;  beneath  the 
rocks,  a  broad,  hard,  sand  beach,  and  low  on  the  water's  edge,  a 
castle  of  dark  brown  stone,  the  only  artificial  defense,  that  I  no- 
ticed, of  the  harbor.  The  high  ground  was  occupied  by  villas 
belonging  to  merchants  of  Liverpool,  and  the  place  is  called  New 
Brighton,  and  bears  a  resemblance  to  our  New  Brighton.  There 
is  the  same  barrenness  of  foliage,  and  some  similarity  in  the  style 
of  the  houses,  though  there  are  none  so  out  of  taste  as  some  of 
those  that  obtrude  upon  the  scenery  of  Staten  Island,  and  none 
so  pretty  as  some  of  the  less  prominent  there. 

As  we  entered  the  cloud  that  had  hitherto  interrupted  our  view 
3 


34  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

in  front,  we  could  see,  on  the  left,  many  tall  chimneys  and  stee- 
ples, and  soon  discerned  forests  of  masts.  On  the  right,  the  bank 
.continued  rural  and  charming,  with  all  the  fresh,  light  verdure 
of  spring.  Below  it  we  could  distinctly  see — and  quite  amusing 
it  was — many  people,  mostly  women  and  children,  riding  donkeys 
and  driving  pony-carriages  on  the  beach.  It  seemed  strange,  in 
our  pleasure  at  seeing  them,  that  they  did  not  stop  to  look  at  us. 
There  were  bathing- wagons,  too,  drawn  by  a  horse  out  into  three 
or  four  feet  water,  and  women  floundering  into  it  out  of  them, 
and  getting  back  again  very  hastily,  as  if  they  found  it  colder 
than  they  had  expected.  We  approached  incomplete  structures 
of  stone  work  along  the  water's  edge,  in  which  men  and  horses 
were  clustering  like  bees.  Soon  we  passed  them,  and  were  look- 
ing up  at  immense  walls,  each  with  its  city  of  enclosed  shipping 
securely  afloat  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  higher  than  the  water  on 
which  we  were,  it  being  now  low  ebb.  At  five,  in  the  rumble 
and  roar  of  the  town,  our  anchor  dropped.  The  ship  could  not 
haul  into  the  docks  until  midnight  tide,  and  the  steam-tug  took 
us,  who  wished  it,  to  the  shore,  landing  us  across  the  Dublin 
steamer  at  the  Prince's  Dock  quay. 


THE  FIRST  OF  ENGLAND.  35 


CHAPTER  V. 


The  First  of  England  — The  Streets  — A  Railway  Station  — The  Docks  at 
Night  —  Prostitutes  —  Temperance  —  The  Still  Life  of  Liverpool  —  A 
Market. 


A  T  the  head  of  the  gang-plank  stood  a  policeman,  easily  rec- 
•*T  ognized  and  familiar,  thanks  to  Punch,  who  politely  helped 
us  to  land,  thus  giving  us  immediate  occasion  to  thank  the  gov- 
ernment for  its  hospitality,  and  its  regard  for  our  safety  and  con- 
venience. It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  stamp  upon  the  neat,  firm, 
solid  mason-work  of  the  dock,  and  we  could  not  but  be  mindful 
of  the  shabby  log  wharves  we  had  stumbled  over  as  we  left  New 
York.  We  were  immediately  beset  by  porters,  not  rudely,  but 
with  serious,  anxious  deference  and  care  to  keep  a  way  open  be- 
fore us.  I  was  assisting  a  lady,  and  carried  her  bag ;  a  man  fol- 
lowed me  pertinaciously.  "  I  have  no  baggage,"  said  I.  "  But, 
sir,  this  bag  ?"  "  Oh,  I  can  carry  that."  "  Excuse  me,  sir ;  you 
must  not,  indeed ;  gentlemen  never  does  so  in  this  country" 
After  handing  the  lady  into  a  hackney-coach,  we  walked  on. 
The  landing-place  was  spacious,  not  encumbered  with  shanties  or 
piles  of  freight,  and  though  there  was  a  little  rain  falling,  there 
was  a  smooth,  clean  stone  pavement,  free  from  mud,  to  walk  upon. 
There  was  a  slight  smell  of  bituminous  smoke  in  the  air,  not  dis- 


36  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  7JT  EXGLAXD. 

agreeable,  but,  to  me,  highly  pleasant.  I  snuffed  it  as  if  passing 
a  field  of  new  mown  hay — snuffed  and  pondered,  and  at  last  was 
brought  to  my  mind  the  happy  fireside  of  my  friend,  in  the  indis- 
tinct memory  of  which  this  peculiar  odor  of  English  coal  had 
been  gratefully  associated. 

Coming  on  shore  with  no  luggage  or  any  particular  business 
to  engage  our  attention,  we  plunged  adventurously  into  the  con- 
fused tide  of  life  with  which  the  busy  streets  were  thronged, 
careless  whither  it  floated  us.  Emerging  from  the  crowd  of  por- 
ters, hackmen,  policemen,  and  ragged  Irish  men  and  women,  on 
the  dock,  we  entered  the  first  street  that  opened  before  us.  On 
the  corner  stood  a  church — not  un-American  in  its  appearance — 
and  we  passed,  without  stopping,  to  the  next  corner,  where  we 
paused  to  look  at  the  dray-horses,  exceedingly  heavy  and  in  ele- 
gant condition,  fat  and  glossy,  and  docile,  but  animated  in  their 
expression.  They  were  harnessed,  generally,  in  couples,  one 
before  another,  to  great,  strong,  low-hung  carts,  heavy  enough 
alone  to  be  a  load  for  one  of  our  cartmen's  light  horses.  Catch- 
ing the  bustling  spirit  of  the  crowd,  we  walked  on  at  a  quick 
pace,  looking  at  the  faces  of  the  men  we  met  more  than  anything 
else,  until  we  came  to  a  wall  of  hewn  drab  stone,  some  fifteen 
feet  high,  with  a  handsomely  cut  balustrade  at  the  top.  There 
was  a  large  gateway  in  it,  from  which  a  policeman  was  driving 
away  some  children.  People  were  going  in  and  out,  and  we  fol- 
lowed in  to  see  what  it  was.  Up  stairs,  we  found  ourselves  on  a 
broad  terrace,  with  a  handsome  building  fronting  upon  it»  An- 
other policeman  here  informed  us  that  it  was  a  railway  station. 
The  door  was  opened  as  we  approached  it  by  a  man  in  a  simple 
uniform,  who  asked  us  where  we  were  going.  We  answered  that 
we  merely  wished  to  look  at  the  building.  "  Walk  in  gentlemen ; 
you  will  best  take  the  right-hand  platform,  and  return  by  the 
other."  A  train  was  backing  in ;  a  man  in  the  same  uniform 


PROSTITUTES.  37 


stood  on  the  rear  car,  and  moved  his  hand  round  as  if  turning  an 
imaginary  driving-wheel,  the  engine  at  the  other  end  being  gov- 
erned by  his  motions — forward — slower — slower — faster — slower 
— stop — back.  The  train  stopped,  the  doors  were  unlocked  by 
men  in  uniform,  and  there  was  a  rush  of  passengers  to  secure 
good  seats.  Women  with  bundles  and  band-boxes  were  shoved 
this  way  and  that,  as  they  struggled  to  hoist  themselves  into  the 
doors ;  their  parcels  were  knocked  out  of  their  hands,  porters 
picked  them  up  and  threw  them  in,  reckless  where. 

Going  into  the  street  again,  we  wandered  on  till  it  was  quite 
dark,  with  no  other  object  but  to  get  a  general  impression  of  the 
character  of  the  town.  We  looked  into  a  few  houses  where  we 
saw  a  sign  of  "  Clean  and  well-aired  beds,"  and  found  that  we 
should  have  no  difficulty  in  getting  comfortable  lodgings  at  a  very 
moderate  price.  From  nine  until  twelve  we  were  waiting  at  the 
dock  for  the  ship  to  haul  in,  or  trying  in  vain  to  get  a  boat  to  go 
on  board  of  her.  There  were  many  vessels  lying  near  the  great 
gates,  all  standing  by,  when  they  should  be  opened  at  high-water, 
to  be  hauled  in. 

The  broad  promenade  outside  the  dock  walls  was  occupied  by 
the  police,  stevedores,  watermen,  boarding-house  keepers,  and  a 
crowd  of  women,  waiting  to  help  in  the  ships  or  to  receive  their 
crews  when  the  tide  should  have  risen  enough  to  admit  them.  I 
was  surprised  at  the  quietness  and  decency  of  these  "  sailors' 
wives,"  as  they  called  themselves ;  they  were  plainly  and  gener- 
ally neatly  dressed,  and  talked  quietly  and  in  kind  tones  to  each 
other,  and  I  heard  no  loud  profanity  or  ribaldry  at  all.  Whether 
this  was  owing  to  the  presence  of  the  police,  I  cannot  say,  but  I 
am  sure  it  would  be  impossible  to  find,  in  America,  vice,  shame, 
and  misery,  so  entirely  unassociated  with  drunkenness  or  excite- 
ment and  riot.  They  were  not  as  young  as  girls  of  the  same  sort 
in  the  streets  of  New  York,  and  in  the  strong  gas  light  their 


38  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

faces  seemed  expressive  of  a  quite  different  character ;  generally 
they  were  sad,  but  not  ill-natured  or  stupid.  It  occurred  to  me 
that  their  degradation  must  have  been  reached  in  a  different  way, 
and  had  not  brought  with  it  such  banishment  from  all  good  as  they 
would  suffer  with  us.  As  they  stood,  companioned  together  with 
each  other,  but  friendless,  some  with  not  even  hats  to  protect 
them  from  the  rain,  others,  with  their  gowns  drawn  up  over  their 
head,  and  others,  two  together,  under  a  scanty  shawl,  it  would 
have  been  difficult,  I  thought,  for  any  one  not  to  have  been  soft- 
ened towards  those  abandoned  thus  to  seek  support  of  life  that 
night.  We  could  not  but  think  the  cheerful  words  with  which 
the  sailors  recognized  and  greeted  them,  as  the  ships  hauled  near, 
were  as  much  dictated  by  pity  and  sympathy  as  by  any  worse 
impulses.  They  said,  "  If  nobody  else  is  waiting  to  welcome  us, 
we  know  that  you  will  be  glad  that  we  are  coming  to  the  land 
once  more ;  so  cheer  up,  and  we  will  help  each  other  again  to 
enjoy  a  short  space  of  jollity,  excitement,  and  forgetfulness." 

Tired  of  waiting  for  the  ship,  and  a  good  deal  fatigued  with 
our  tramp  on  the  pavements,  about  half-past  twelve  we  went  back 
into  the  town,  and  by  the  very  obliging  assistance  of  the  police- 
men found  lodgings  ma"  Temperance  Hotel,"  still  open  at  that 
late  hour.  We  were  a  little  surprised  to  find  a  number  of  men 
in  the  coffee-room  drinking  beer  and  smoking.  The  subject  of 
their  conversation  was  some  project  of  an  association  of  work- 
ing-men to  combine  their  savings,  and  make  more  profitable  in- 
vestment of  them  than  could  be  made  of  the  small  amounts  of 
each  separately.  There  were  late  newspapers  on  the  table,  and 
we  sat  up  some  time  longer  to  read  them,  but  they  were  still  at 
it,  puffing  and  drinking,  and  earnestly  discussing  how  they  could 
best  use  their  money,  when  we  went  up  to  bed.  We  had  good 
beds,  in  pleasant  rooms,  for  which  we  paid  but  twenty-five  cents 
each. 


COST  OF  LIVING  —  BUILDING  MATERIALS.  39 

The  next  morning  we  got  our  trunks  from  the  ship,  the  custom 
house  officers  searching  them  before  they  left  the  dockyard. 
Books,  letters,  and  daguerreotypes  were  examined  minutely,  but 
the  officers  were  very  civil  and  accommodating ;  so  also  were  the 
cartmen  that  took  them  to  the  inn  for  us.  The  expense  of  get- 
ting our  luggage  through  the  searching  office,  and  carting  it  a 
mile,  was  only  twenty-five  cents  for  each  trunk,  and  "  tuppence 
for  beer." 

We  went  to  a  small  lodging-house  that  we  had  examined  last 
night,  and  found  it  neat  and  comfortable,  and  kept  by  an  agreeable 
woman.  We  have  a  large  front  room,  comfortably  furnished,  and 
down  stairs  is  a  quiet  parlor  and  dining-room.  ( We  breakfast  in 
the  house,  and  dine  and  sup  at  an  eating-house.  The  whole  cost 
of  living  so,  with  care,  need  be  but  about  seventy-five  cents  each 
a  day.  As  good  entertainment  would  cost  more  in  New  York. 
We  have  made  a  few  purchases  of  clothing,  and  find  every  thing 
we  want  cheaper  than  in  New  York. 

Liverpool,   Tuesday,  May  2Sth. 

The  common  building  material  is  a  light,  greyish-red  brick. 
Stone  of  different  colors  is  used  in  about  the  same  proportion 
that  it  is  in  New  York.  The  warehouses  are  generally  higher 
than  the  same  class  of  buildings  there,  but  the  dwelling  houses 
lower,  seldom  over  three  stories.  The  old  houses,  in  narrow 
streets,  are  generally  small,  and  often  picturesque  from  the  incon- 
gruous additions  and  improvements  that  have  been  made  to  them 
at  intervals.  At  the  railway  station,  we  noticed  such  differences 
in  the  windows  of  a  two  story  house  near  us,  as  these :  There 
were  two  below,  one  of  these,  being  a  shop  front,  was  entirely 
modern,  with  large  panes  of  glass  in  light  wooden  sashes.  The 
other  was  of  small  panes,  set  in  heavy  wood  work,  such  as  you 
see  in  our  oldest  houses.  One  of  the  upper  windows  had  small 


40  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

square  panes  set  in  lead ;  those  of  the  other  were  lozenge-shaped, 
and  in  neither  were  they  more  than  three  inches  wide.  The 
frames  were  much  wider  than  they  were  high,  and  they  opened 
sideways.  In  the  newer  part  of  the  city,  the  fashionable  quarter, 
there  are  a  good  many  brick-walled  houses  faced  with  stucco. 
Others  are  of  Bath  stone,  and  these  are  not  unfrequently  painted 
over  of  the  original  color  of  the  stone.  Bath  stone,  which  is  the 
most  common  material  of  mason  work,  is  a  fine-grained  freestone, 
very  easy  to  the  chisel.  It  is  furnished  much  cheaper  than  our 
brown  stone,  so  much  so  that  there  would  be  a  chance  of  export- 
ing it  to  America  with  profit.  There  is  a  finer  sort,  called  by  the 
masons  Caen  stone,  which  is  brought  from  Normandy.  The  color 
of  both  is  at  first  buff,  but  rapidly  changes  to  a  dark  brown.* 
There  are  some  buildings  of  red  sandstone,  of  a  little  lighter 
color  than  that  now  so  much  used  in  New  York.  In  buildings 
mainly  of  brick,  stone  is  used  more  than  with  us ;  and  there  are 
none  of  those  equivocating,  sanded-wood  parapets,  porticos,  steps, 
etc.;  all  is  the  real  grit.  The  bricks  are  mottled,  half  red  and 
half  greyish  yellow ;  the  effect,  at  a  little  distance,  being,  as  I 
said,  a  yellow  or  greyish-red,  much  pleasanter  than  the  bright 
red  color  of  our  Eastern  brick.  Every  thing  out  of  doors  here 
soon  gets  toned  down,  as  the  artists  say,  by  the  smoke.  Perhaps 
it  is  partly  on  this  account  that  pure  white  paint  is  never  used ; 
but  the  prevailing  taste  is  evidently  for  darker  colors  than  with 
us.  The  common  hues  of  the  furniture  and  fitting  up  of  shops, 
for  instance,  is  nearly  as  dark  as  old  mahogany.  This  gives 
even  the  dram-shops  such  a  rich,  substantial  look,  that  we  can 
hardly  recognize  them  as  of  the  same  species  as  our  tawdry 
"  saloons,"  painted,  gilded,  and  bedizened  to  catch  flies  with  their 


*  Caen  stone  does  not  darken  much  unless  from  soot.    It  is  now  frequently  imported, 
and  several  fine  buildings  hare  been  made  of  it  in  New  York. 


LIVERPOOL.  41 


flare.  There  are  no  "  oyster  cellars,"  but  oysters  "  in  the  shell," 
are  exposed  in  stands  about  the  street,  like  those  of  our  "  hot 
corn,"  and  apple  women.  Liquor  shops,  always  with  the  ominous 
sign  of  "  Vaults"  are  very  frequent,  and  often  splendid.  The 
tea  and  coffee  shops  are  among  the  richest  in  the  streets.  The 
bakers'  fronts  are  also  generally  showy,  and  there  are  a  great 
many  of  them.  It  seems  to  be  the  general  custom,  for  poor  fam- 
ilies at  least,  to  make  their  own  bread,  and  send  it  in  to  them  to 
be  baked.  The  first  night  we  were  ashore,  we  got  some  bread 
and  butter,  and  American  cheese,  at  a  baker's,  and  saw  in  ten 
minutes  a  dozen  loaves  called  for.  They  had  sheet-iron  checks, 
with  numbers  on  them,  which  were  given  up  on  the  presentation 
of  a  corresponding  check,  and,  for  a  loaf  of  ten  or  twelve  pounds, 
a  penny  for  baking — in  the  same  way  that  passengers'  baggage 
is  checked  on  our  railroads. 

Wood  is  used  in  the  interior  of  houses  more  than  I  had  imag- 
ined it  would  be.  Its  cost  is  high.  I  inquired  the  price  of  what 
looked  like  a  common  "  Albany  board,"  such  as  I  buy  in  New 
York  for  sixteen  cents ;  it  was  of  the  value  of  about  thirty-five 
cents.  The  kitchens,  as  far  as  we  have  observed,  are  on  the 
street  floor,  level  with  the  living  apartments.  Coarse  pottery  and 
wicker-work  utensils  are  more  common  than  with  us.  Few  of 
the  houses  in  the  town  have  trees  about  them.  Occasionally  an 
old  mansion  is  set  a  little  back,  and  has  a  little  scrubby  foliage 
in  front  of  it — most  commonly  of  elms  dwarfed  [by  smoke]  to 
the  size  and  natural  shape  of  a  green-gage  plum  tree.  There 
are,  though,  in  the  better  part  of  the  town,  some  charming  pub- 
lic grounds.  I  have  seen  nothing  in  America  so  fine. 

The  surface  of  the  ground  on  which  the  town  is  built  is  irreg- 
ular, and  the  streets  crooked  and  running  at  every  angle  with 
each  other.  Generally  they  are  short,  and,  if  long,  at  every  few 
blocks  the  names  are  changed.  The  names  are  often  singular ; 


42  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

many,  far  apart,  have  the  same  with  different  prefixes,  as  Great 
and  Little,  North  and  South,  etc.  We  are  in  "  Great  Cross  Hall 
street;"  after  a  slight  turn  it  is  called  " Tythe  Barn  street ;"  and 
further  on  Chapel  street.  Tythe  Barn,  I  understand,  is  derived 
from  the  name  of  the  building  in  which  the  tithes  were  deposited 
when  they  were  taken  in  kind — a  tenth  of  the  hay,  wheat,  poul- 
try, etc.  There  is  a  steep  ascent  near  us  called  "  Shaw's  Brow;" 
it  is  fitted  with  smooth  stone  tracks  for  cart-wheels,  with  narrow 
stones  between  them  set  on  end  for  the  horses'  feet — double  teams 
here  generally  going  tandem.  The  best  streets  are  paved  only 
one-quarter  the  distance  across  them,  the  intermediate  space 
being  macadamized.  This  makes  a  very  pleasant  road.  There 
is  generally  a  wide  side-walk,  which  is  flagged  as  in  our  cities ; 
but  in  the  commercial  streets  it  is  oftener  paved  like  the  carriage 
way,  and  in  the  narrowest,  there  is  none  at  all.  The  streets  are 
veiy  clean,  and  all  the  side-walks,  gutters,  and  untraveled  spaces, 
appear  to  be  swept  every  day. 

I  have  been  through  two  markets.  One  of  them  is  an  im- 
mensely large  building,  covering  about  two  acres,  right  in  the 
center  of  the  town ;  it  is  clean,  light,  and  well  ventilated.  What 
a  wonder  it  is  that  the  people  of  New  York  will  put  up  with 
such  miserable,  filthy,  crowded  hovels  as  their  markets  are !  In 
this  building  there  are  over  five  hundred  stalls  and  tables.  It 
has  its  own  superintendent  of  weights  and  measures,  and  a  thor- 
ough and  constant  police.  There  are  twelve  men  whose  employ- 
ment is  to  keep  it  clean.  The  garbage  is  passed  readily  through 
traps  into  vaults  below,  from  which  it  is  removed  at  night.  The 
rules  for  those  who  use  it,  are  excellent  to  secure  healthy  condi- 
tion of  food,  neatness,  order,  and  fair  play,  and  they  are  strictly 
enforced.  To  my  mind,  this  structure  and  the  arrangements 
connected  with  it  are  an  honor  to  Liverpool,  not  second  to  her 
docks.  And  she  has  three  other  large  public  markets,  besides 


MARKETS—  ECONOMIES— 110  URS.  43 

small  ones  for  particular  purposes.  The  meat  stalls  are  frequent- 
ly owned  by  women,  and,  except  a  better  supply  of  birds  and 
rabbits,  did  not  offer  any  thing  different  from  those  of  our  butch- 
ers. A  part  of  the  market  seemed  to  be  occupied  by  country 
women  for  the  sale  of  miscellaneous  wares. 

The  fish  market  was  in  another  building,  which  was  entirely 
occupied  by  women,  nice  and  neat,  though  skinning  eels  and 
cleaning  fish.  The  milk  market  also  seemed  to  be  altogether  in 
the  hands  of  women.  Milk  is  not  peddled  about  as  in  New  York, 
but  sold  from  cellar  shops.  If  one  wants  a  cup  of  tea,  our  land- 
lady runs  across  the  street  for  a  penny-worth  of  milk.  "  From 
hand  to  mouth  "  so,  seems  to  be  common  with  many  things.  The 
material  for  our  breakfast  is  mostly  bought  after  we  have  ordered 
it.  As  we  did  not  mention  what  we  would  have  till  after  the 
shops  were  closed  last  night,  we  had  to  wait  till  nine  o'clock  for 
it  this  morning.  Business  hours  begin  later  than  in  America. 
I  think  the  market  is  not  open  till  eight,  which  they  speak  of  as 
"early." 


WTV: 


44  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  VL 

The  People  at  Liverpool  —  Poverty— Merchants— Shopkeepers — Women — 
Soldiers  —  Children  —  Donkeys  and  Dray  Horses. 

|"  HAVE  mentioned  the  most  general  features  of  the  town, 
-*-  which,  at  first  sight,  on  landing  in  Europe  from  New  York, 
strike  me  as  peculiar.  Having  given  you  its  still  life,  you  will 
wish  me  to  people  it, 

After  we  had  wandered  for  about  an  hour  through  the  streets 
the  first  afternoon  we  were  ashore,  I  remarked  that  we  had  not 
yet  seen  a  single  nicely  dressed  man,  hardly  one  that  in  America 
would  have  been  described  as  "  of  respectable  appearance."  We 
were  astonished  to  observe  with  what  an  unmingled  stream  of 
poverty  the  streets  were  swollen,  and  J.  remarked  that  if  what 
we  had  seen  was  a  fair  indication  of  the  general  condition  of  the 
masses  here,  he  should  hardly  feel  justified  in  dissuading  them 
from  using  violent  and  anarchical  means  to  bring  down  to  them- 
selves a  share  of  the  opportunities  and  comforts  of  those  "  higher 
classes  "  that  seem  to  be  so  utterly  separated  from  them.  There 
are  a  great  many  Irish  in  Liverpool,  but  the  most  that  we  had 
thus  far  seen  evidently  were  English,  yet  not  English  as  we  have 
known  them.  Instead  of  the  stout,  full-faced  John  Bulls,  we  had 
noticed  but  few  who  were  not  thin,  meagre,  and  pale.  There 


LIVERPOOL  PEOPLE.  45 

was  somewhat  rarely  an  appearance  of  actual  misery,  but  a  stu- 
pid, hopeless,  state-prison-for-life  sort  of  expression.  There  were 
not  unfrequently  some  exceptions  to  this,  but  these  were  mostly 
men  in  some  uniform  or  livery,  as  railroad  hands,  servants,  and 
soldiers. 

The  next  morning,  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Exchange  (the 
regular  'Change  assemblage  seemed  to  meet  out  of  doors),  we 
saw  a  large  collection  of  the  merchants.  There  was  nothing  to 
distinguish  them  from  a  company  of  a  similar  kind  with  us,  be- 
yond a  general  Englishness  of  feature  and  an  entire  absence  of 
all  oddities — with  astonishing  beards  and  singularities  of  costume. 
One  young  man  only  wore  small  clothes  and  leggins,  which  would 
perhaps  have  disagreeably  subjected  him  to  be  noticed  with  us. 
They  were  stouter  than  our  merchants,  and  more  chubby-faced, 
yet  not  looking  in  vigorous  health.  They  were,  on  the  whole, 
judging  by  a  glance  at  their  outsides,  to  be  more  respected  than 
any  lot  of  men  of  the  same  number  that  I  ever  saw  together  in 
Wall  street.  Many  of  them,  and  most  of  the  well-dressed  men 
that  we  have  seen  in  the  streets,  have  a  green  leaf  and  simple 
posy  in  a  button-hole  of  their  coats. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  better  class,  or  retail  merchants,  are 
exactly  the  same  men,  to  all  appearance,  who  stand  behind  the 
counters  with  us.  Merchant,  means  only  a  wholesale  dealer  in 
England ;  retailers  are  shopkeepers.  The  word  store  is  never 
applied  to  a  building ;  but  the  building  in  which  goods  are  stored 
is  a  warehouse. 

Women  are  more  employed  in  trade  than  with  us ;  I  have  no 
doubt  with  advantage.  The  women  in  the  streets  are  more 
noticeably  different  from  ours  than  the  men.  In  general,  they 
seem  cheaply  and  coarsely  clad.  Many  of  the  lower  class  have 
their  outer  garments  ordinarily  drawn  up  behind,  in  the  scrub- 
bing-floor  fashion.  Caps  are  universally  worn,  and  being  gener- 


46  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

ally  nice  and  white,  they  have  a  pleasant  effect  upon  the  face. 
The  very  poorest  women  look  miserably.  We  see  bruised  eyes 
not  unfrequently,  and  there  is  evidently  a  good  deal  of  hard 
drinking  among  them.  They  are  larger  and  stouter,  and  have 
coarser  features  than  any  women  we  are  accustomed  to  see. 
There  are  neither  as  many  pretty  nor  as  many  ugly  faces  as  with 
us ;  indeed,  there  are  very  few  remarkably  ill-favored  in  that 
respect,  and  almost  none  strikingly  handsome.  The  best  faces 
we  have  seen  were  among  the  fish-stalls  in  market.  "With 
scarcely  an  exception,  the  fish-women  were  very  large  and  tall, 
and  though  many  of  them  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  fifty,  they 
had  full,  bright,  unwrinkled  faces,  very  ruddy  cheeks,  and  a 
cheerful  expression.  English  women,  generally,  appear  more 
bold  and  self-reliant  than  ours ;  their  action  is  more  energetic, 
and  their  carriage  less  graceful  and  drooping.  Those  well  dress- 
ed, whom  we  have  seen,  are  no  exceptions.  Those  we  have  met 
to  converse  with  are  as  modest  and  complaisant  as  could  be  de- 
sired, yet  speak  with  a  marked  promptness,  straightforwardness 
and  confidence  which  is  animating  and  attractive.  We  met  a 
small  company  last  night  at  the  residence  of  a  gentleman  to  whom 
we  had  a  letter,  and  spent  the  evening  precisely  as  we  should  at 
a  small  tea-party  at  home ;  we  might  easily  have  imagined  our- 
selves in  New  England.  The  gentlemen  were  no  way  different, 
that  we  noticed,  from  cultivated  men  with  us,  and  the  ladies  only 
seemed  rather  more  frank,  hearty  and  sincere,  than  we  should 
expect  ours  to  be  to  strangers.*  There  was  nothing  in  their 
dresses,  that  I  can  think  of,  as  peculiar,  yet  a  general  air,  not 
American — a  heavier  look  and  more  crinkles,  and  darker  and 

*  These  ladies  -were  Irish.  The  remark  hardly  applies  to  English  ladies,  certainly  not 
unless  you  meet  them  domestically.  The  English  in  their  homes,  and  the  English  "in 
company,"  are  singularly  opposite  characters. 


CHILDREN^  DRESS— DONKEYS.  47 

more  mixed-up  colors.  We  see  many  rather  nice  looking  women 
probably  coming  in  from  the  country,  driving  themselves  about 
town  as  if  they  understood  it,  in  jaunty-looking  chaises  and 
spring-carts. 

There  are  a  good  many  soldiers  moving  about  in  fine  undress 
uniforms :  one  regiment  is  in  blue,  which  I  did  not  suppose  the 
British  used.  The  men  look  well — more  intelligent  than  you 
would  suppose.  'Many  are  quite  old,  grey-headed,  and  all  are 
very  neat  and  orderly  in  the  streets. 

The  children  look  Punchy.  It  strikes  me  the  young  ones  are 
dressed  much  older,  while  the  young  men  are  clothed  much  more 
boyishly  than  in  America. 

There  are  lots  of  the  queerest  little  donkeys  in  the  streets ; 
some  of  them  would  not  weigh  more  than  Nep  [my  Newfound- 
land], and  most  of  them  are  not  as  large  as  our  two-year-old 
steers.  They  are  made  to  draw  enormous  loads.  I  saw  one 
tugging  a  load  of  coal,  on  the  top  of  which  two  stout  Irishmen 
sat,  and  stopped  them  to  ask  the  weight.  It  was  1200  [besides 
themselves],  and  the  top  of  the  donkey's  back  was  just  even  with 
my  waist.  The  driver  said  he  bought  her  five  years  ago  for  two 
pounds  [$10],  and  she  was  then  called  an  old  one.  Here  is  one 
now  coming  up  the  hill  with  a  great  load  of  furniture,  a  man  on 
behind  it,  and  a  boy  on  the  shafts — a  poor  little  rat  of  a  thing, 
with  the  meekest  expression  you  can  conceive  of.  It  is  just  as 
much  as  he  can  stagger  along  with,  and  the  boy  jumps  off  to 
relieve — no !  the  young  satan  has  gone  to  his  head  and  is  cudgel- 
ing him.  The  poor  little  donkey  winces  and  turns  his  head, 
and  drops  his  ears,  and  nearly  falls  down.  The  boy  stops  [prob- 
ably a  policeman  heaves  in  sight]  and  takes  his  seat  on  the  shaft 
again,  and  the  donkey  reels  on.  The  man  aft  has  continued  his 


48  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

smoking  all  the  while,  without  taking  any  notice  of  the  delay. 
As  I  write,  there  goes  by  another — a  very  handsome,  large  fat 
one,  drawing  a  market  cart,  with  a  pretty  county  girl  among  the 
hampers  driving. 


BEGGARS — PLACARD.  49 


CHAPTER  VH. 

Liverpool  Continued — Irish  Beggars  —  Condition  of  Laborers  —  Cost  of 
Living — Prices — Bath  House  —  Quarantine — The  Docks — Street  Scene 
—  "  Coming  Yankee  "  Over  Nonsense  —  Artistic  Begging. 

T  HAVE  learned  nothing  reliable  about  the  price  of  labor  here; 
•*•  the  Irish  emigration  keeps  it  lower  in  Liverpool  than  else- 
where. This  reminds  me  of  beggars,  and  of  a  placard  posted 
everywhere  about  the  streets  to-day.  The  beggars  are  not  very 
frequent,  and  are  mostly  poor,  pitiable,  sickly  women,  carrying 
half-naked  babies.  The  placard  is  as  follows :  "  The  SELECT 
VESTRY  inform  their  fellow-citizens,  that  in  consequence  of  the 
extremely  low  price  of  passage  from  Ireland — 4c?.  (8  cts.) — great 
numbers  are  coming  here  apparently  with  no  other  object  than  to 
beg.  They  earnestly  desire  that  nothing  should  be  given  them. 
As  a  specimen,  they  mention  the  following :  An  Irish  woman, 
pretending  to  be  a  widow,  was  taken  up,  who  had  obtained  3s. 
2d.  (80  cts.)  in  an  hour  and  a  half  after  her  arrival.  Her  hus- 
band was  found  already  in  custody." 

The  people  all  seem  to  be  enjoying  life  more,  or  else  to  be 
much  more  miserable,  than  in  America.*     The  laborers  seem 

*  I  was  surprised  to  find  this  remark  in  my  first  letter  from  Liverpool,  for  it  is  the  pre- 
cise counterpart  of  my  impression  on  landing  again  in  the  United  States,  after  six 

4 


50  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

haggard  and  stupid,  and  all  with  whom  I  have  talked,  say  a  poor 
man  can  hardly  live  here.  There  is  a  strong  anti-free-trade 
growling  among  them,  and  they  complain  much  of  the  repeal  of 
the  Navigation  Laws,  asserting  that  American  ships  are  now  get- 
ting business  that  was  formerly  in  the  hands  of  the  English  alone, 
and  so  American  sailors  do  the  labor  in  the  docks  which  was 
formerly  given  to  the  stevedores  and  working  men  of  the  town. 

Clothing,  shoes,  etc.,  and  rents,  are  a  good  deal  cheaper  than 
in  New  York,  and  common  articles  of  food  but  little  higher.  I 
have  obtained  the  following  as  specimens  of  prices  for  a  few  or- 
dinary necessaries  of  life  (1st  of  June)  : 

Beef,  mutton,  and  pork,  fine,  12£  cts.  a  pound;  lamb,  16  cts.; 
veal,  10  cts. 

Salmon,,  33  cts.  a  pound;  fresh  butter,  27  cts.;  potatoes,  31  cts. 
a  peck. 

Fowls,  75  cts.  a  pair ;  rabbits,  50  cts.  a  pair ;  pigeons,  37  cts. 
each. 

Best  Ohio  flour,  ("superfine,")  $6.25  a  barrel. 

Bread,  2  J-  cts.  a  pound,  or  a  loaf  of  twelve  pounds,  30  cts. 

Bread  of  best  quality,  3  cts.  per  lb.,  or  loaf  of  twelve  pounds, 
35  ct?. 

Sugar  is  higher,  and  tropical  fruits,  pine-apples,  oranges,  etc., 
are  sold  by  the  hucksters  for  more  money  than  in  New  York. 

Gas. — The  town  is  well  lighted  by  gas,  and  it  is  much  used  in 
private  houses — much  more  generally  than  in  New  York.  Price 
$1.12  per  1000  feet. 

Water. — Water  is  conveyed  through  the  town  and  to  the  ship- 
months  absence  in  Europe.  I  observe  lately,  that  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  has  said  something 
of  similar  import.  I  do  believe  the  people  of  the  United  States  have  less  of  pleasure  and 
less  of  actual  suffering  than  any  other  in  the  world  Hopefulness,  but  hope  ever  unsat- 
isfied, is  marked  in  every  American's  face.  In  contrast  with  Germany,  it  is  particularly 
evident  that  most  of  us  know  but  little  of  the  virtuous  pleasure  God  has  fitted  us  to  en- 
joy in  this  world. 


r RICES  —  BA  THING  —  DOCKS.  5 1 

ping  in  tubes,  through  which  I  believe  it  is  forced  by  steam-en- 
gines by  several  companies.  The  manner  in  which  they  are 
remunerated  I  did  not  learn. 

Bathing. — There  is  a  very  large  and  elegant  bath-house  (cov- 
ering half  an  acre),  built  of  stone,  by  the  corporation,  at  an  ex- 
pense of  $177,000.  It  is  fitted  with  suitable  accommodations  for 
all  classes  of  bathers,  at  various  prices.  There  is  a  public  bath 
(45  by  27  feet)  for  gentlemen,  and  another  for  ladies.  The  wa- 
ter is  all  filtered,  and  the  cold  baths  have  a  constant  fresh  supply 
and  outflow.  A  steam  engine  is  employed  for  pumping,  etc. 
There  are  also  floating  baths  in  the  river,  as  at  New  York ;  and 
beach-bathing  and  sea-swimming  can  be  enjoyed  at  a  few  minutes 
distance,  by  ferry,  from  the  town. 

Quarantine. — There  are  no  buildings  or  ground  employed  for 
quarantine,  but  a  number  of  large  hulks  are  moored  in  the  bay 
for  this  purpose.  Quarantine  vessels  are  anchored  near  them, 
and  keep  a  yellow  flag  flying.  It  is  a  great  many  years  since  a 
vessel  has  been  quarantined  here,  however,  the  medical  men 
being  generally  agreed  that  such  precaution  is  useless,  or  effective 
of  more  harm  than  good. 

We  have  not  made  a  business  of  sight  seeing,  and  I  want  to 
give  you  the  general  aspect  of  the  first  English  town  to  us,  rather 
than  show  up  the  lions.  The  Liverpool  docks,  however,  are  so 
extensive,  and  so  different  from  any  thing  we  have  of  the  kind 
in  America,  that  you  will  wish  me  to  give  a  few  particulars  of 
them. 

The  Docks  are  immense  basins,  enclosed  from  the  river,  or 
dug  out  from  the  bank,  walled  up  on  all  sides  by  masonry,  and 
protected  on  the  outside,  from  the  sea,  by  solid  stone  piers  or 
quays.  In  these  quays  are  gates  or  locks,  through  which,  at  high 
water,  vessels  enter  or  leave.  When  the  water  has  slightly  fallen 


AX  AMERICAS'  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 


they  are  closed,  and  the  water  being  retained,  the  ships  are  left 
securely  floating  at  a  height  convenient  for  removing  their  car- 
goes. The  docks  are  all  enclosed  by  high  brick  walls,  but  be- 
tween these  and  the  water  there  is  room  enough  for  passing  of 
carts,  and  for  the  temporary  protection  of  goods  under  wooden 
sheds,  as  they  are  hoisted  out,  and  before  they  can  be  removed. 
The  streets  about  the  docks  are  mostly  lined  with  very  large  and 
strong  fire-proof  warehouses.  The  quay  outside  the  docks  is 
broad  enough  to  afford  a  wide  terrace  upon  the  river,  which  is 
called  the  Marine  Parade,  and  is  much  resorted  to  as  a  promen- 
ade. Stone  stairs  at  intervals  descend  to  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
and  there  are  similar  ones  within  the  docks  to  give  access  to  small 
boats.  There  are  buoys  and  life-preservers  lashed  to  the  rails 
of  the  bridges,  and  small  houses  occasionally,  furnished  with  in- 
struments and  remedies,  for  the  resuscitation  of  drowning  per- 
sons. 

There  are  graving  docks  in  which  the  depth  of  water  can  be 
regulated  at  pleasure,  for  the  inspection  and  repair  of  the  bottoms 
of  vessels ;  and  there  are  large  basins  for  coasters,  to  which  there 
are  no  gates,  and  in  which  the  tide  rises  and  falls,  leaving  them 
in  the  mud  at  the  ebb.  The  large  docks  are  connected  with  each 
other,  and  with  the  graving  docks,  by  canals,  so  a  vessel  can  go 
from  one  to  another  at  any  time  of  tide,  and  without  going  into 
the  river. 

But  you  have  yet  no  idea  of  the  spaciousness  and  grandeur  of 
the  docks.  Some  of  them  enclose  within  their  walls  ten  or  twelve 
acres,  half  of  which,  or  more,  is  occupied  by  vessels.  The  twelve 
now  completed  (there  are  more  building)  extend  along  in  front 
of  the  town  uninterrupted  by  buildings  for  more  than  two  miles, 
or  further  than  from  Whitehall  Stairs  to  Corlear's  Hook,  in  New 
York.  On  the  other  side  of  the  river,  a  considerably  larger  ex- 
tent of  docks  is  laid  out  and  constructing.  A  basin  for  coasters, 


LIVERPOOL  —  DOCKS.  5  3 

which  covers  over  sixteen  acres,  and  in  which  there  is  twelve 
feet  at  low  water,  is  just  completed  there. 

Each  dock  has  its  own  dock-master,  custom-house  superintend- 
ent, and  police  force.  The  police  seems  to  us  perfect.  It  is 
composed  of  well-instructed  young  men,  most  courteous  and 
obliging,  at  the  same  time  prompt  and  efficient.  It  quite  sur- 
prised me  to  see  our  fierce  ship  masters  submit  like  lambs  to  have 
their  orders  countermanded  by  them. 

There  are  three  docks  for  the  convenience  of  steamers  alone. 
The  American  steamers,  I  suppose,  are  too  large  to  go  into  them, 
for  they  are  lying  in  the  stream. 

The  docks  were  built  by  the  town,  and  besides  the  wonderful 
increase  of  its  commerce  which  they  have  effected,  the  direct 
revenue  from  them  gives  a  large  interest  on  their  cost.  The 
charges  are  more  moderate  than  at  other  British  ports,  and  this 
has,  no  doubt,  greatly  helped  to  draw  their  commerce  here.  This 
is  the  principal  ground,  for  instance,  of  the  selection  of  Liverpool 
in  preference  to  Bristol  as  the  port  of  departure  for  transatlantic 
steamers.*  The  foreign  commerce  of  Liverpool  is  the  most  val- 
uable of  any  town  in  the  world.  Its  immense  business  is  proba- 
bly owing  to  its  being  the  best  port  in  the  vicinity  of  the  densest 
manufacturing  district  of  England.  It  is  not  naturally  a  good 
harbor,  but  a  very  exposed  and  inconvenient  one.  The  amount 
paid  by  vessels  for  dockage  has  in  some  years  been  $1,000,000, 
and  the  whole  is  expended  by  the  corporation  in  improvements 
of  the  town  and  for  public  purposes. 

The  small  steam-craft  do  not  usually  go  into  the  docks,  but 
land  passengers  on  the  quays  outside.  The  ferry-boats,  of  which 
there  are  half  a  dozen  lines  crossing  the  Mersey,  all  come  to  one 


*  The  port  charges  at  Bristol  have  been  lately  greatly  reduced,  and  are  now  lower  than 
those  of  Liverpool,  or  any  other  port  in  the  kingdom. 


51  ..LV  AM  ERIC  AX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

large  floating  wharf,  from  which  the  ascent  to  the  quays  is  made 
easy  at  all  times  of  tide,  by  a  sufficiently  long,  hinged  bridge. 

There  is  a  Sailor's  Home  now  building  here,  which  will  cer- 
tainly be  a  noble  record  of  the  justice  and  liberality  of  the  mer- 
chants of  the  port  to  their  humble  associates  on  the  sea.  It  is 
situated  in  an  open  public  place,  not  far  from  the  Custom  House 
and  City  Hall.  It  is  built  of  stone,  in  the  Elizabethan  style, 
and  was  considered  a  design  worthy  of  giving  Prince  Albert 
honor  in  the  laying  of  its  corner-stone.  It  is  already  a  stately 
edifice. 

There  are  chapels  for  seamen  in  several  (possibly  hi  all)  of  the 
docks.* 

Later.  We  have  left  Liverpool,  and  while  breathing  this  de- 
licious fragrance  of  hawthorn  and  clover,  it  is  hard  to  think  back 
to  the  stirring  dusty  town,  but  I  will  try  for  a  few  minutes  to  do 
so,  and  then  bring  you  with  me  (I  wish  I  could !)  out  into  the 
country. 

A  great  deal  that  interested  us  at  Liverpool  I  must  omit  to 
tell  you  of.  I  should  like  to  introduce  you  to  some  of  the  agree- 
able acquaintances  we  met  there,  but  in  what  we  saw  of  social 
life  there  was  hardly  any  thing  to  distinguish  it  from  America. 
We  were  much  pleased  with  some  of  the  public  gardens  and 
pleasure  grounds  that  we  visited,  and  when  we  return  here  I  may 
give  you  some  account  of  them.  I  meant  to  have  said  a  little 

*  The  laws  of  the  port  require  :  That  for  three  hours  at  high  water,  there  shall  be  an 
efficient  person  on  the  deck  of  every  vessel  in  the  docks  or  basins ;  That  the  anchor  shall 
be  in-board,  jib-boom  run  in,  etc.;  That  no  article  of  freight  shall  be  allowed  to  remain 
on  the  dock-quays  for  more  than  forty-eight  hours  [penalty,  §1.25  an  hour] ;  That  no 
light  or  fire  shall  be  allowed  [without  special  permission]  on  any  vessel  in  the  docks  or 
basins  at  any  tune.  This  last  regulation  prevents  cooking  on  board,  and  makes  it 
necessary  for  the  crews  to  live  on  shore.  The  consequent  customs  are  very  inconvenient, 
expensive,  and  demoralizing  to  the  seaman. 


COMPARA TI VE  STREET-PO  VERTY.  55 

more  about  the  style  of  building  in  the  newer  and  extending  parts 
of  the  city ;  it  did  not  differ  much,  however,  from  what  you  might 
see  at  home,  in  some  of  the  suburbs  of  Boston  for  instance. 

It  would  be  more  strange  to  you  to  see  long,  narrow  streets, 
full  from  one  end  to  the  other,  of  the  poorest-looking  people  you 
ever  saw,  women  and  children  only,  the  men  being  off  at  work,  I 
suppose,  sitting,  lounging,  leaning  on  the  door-steps  and  side- 
walks, smoking,  knitting,  and  chatting;  the  boys  playing  ball  in 
the  street,  or  marbles  on  the  flagging ;  no  break  in  the  line  of 
tall,  dreary  houses,  but  strings  of  clothes  hung  across  from  oppo- 
site second-story  windows,  to  dry ;  all  dwellings,  except  a  few 
beer,  or  junk  shops,  in  the  cellars.  You  can  see  nothing  like 
such  a  dead  mass  of  pure  poverty  in  the  worst  quarter  of  our 
worst  city.  In  New  York,  such  a  street  would  be  ten  times  as 
filthy  and  stinking,  and  ten  times  as  lively ;  in  the  middle  of  it 
there  would  be  a  large  fair  building,  set  a  little  back  (would  that 
I  could  say  with  a  few  roods  of  green  turf  and  shrubbery  be- 
tween it  and  the  gutter,  in  which  the  children  are  playing),  with 
the  inscription  upon  it,  "Public  Free  School;"  across  from  the 
windows  would  be  a  banner  with  the  "  Democratic  Republican 
Nominations;"  hand  organs  would  be  playing,  hogs  squealing, 
perhaps  a  stampede  of  firemen ;  boys  would  be  crying  newspa- 
pers, and  the  walls  would  be  posted  with  placards,  appealing, 
with  whatever  motive,  to  patriotism  and  duty,  showing  that  states- 
men and  demagogues  could  calculate  on  the  people's  reading  and 
thinking  a  little  there.  There  would  be  gay  grog-shops,  too, 
with  liberty  poles  before  them,  and  churches  and  Sunday  school 
rooms  (with  lying  faces  of  granite-painted  pine)  by  their  side. 
The  countenances  of  the  people  here  exhibited  much  less  either 
of  virtuous  or  vicious  character,  than  you  would  discern  among 
an  equally  poor  multitude  in  America,  yet  among  the  most  mis- 
erable of  them  (they  were  Irish)  I  was  struck  with  some  singu- 


56  JLV  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAND. 

larly  intelligent,  and  even  beautiful  faces,  so  strangely  out  of 
place,  that  if  they  had  been  cleaned  and  put  in  frames,  so  the 
surroundings  would  not  appear,  you  would  have  taken  them  for 
those  of  delicate,  refined,  and  intellectual  ladies. 

Thursday  Morning,  May  30*A. 

"We  packed  all  our  traveling  matter,  except  a  few  necessaries, 
in  two  trunks  and  a  carpet-bag,  and  I  took  them  in  a  hackney 
carriage  to  the  freight  station,  to  be  sent  to  London.  The  trunks 
were  received,  but  the  bag  the  clerks  refused,  and  said  it  must  be 
sent  from  the  passenger  station.  I  had  engaged  to  meet  my 
friends  in  a  few  minutes  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  town  from 
the  passenger  station,  and  the  delay  of  going  there  would  vexa- 
tiously  disarrange  our  plans.  I  therefore  urged  them  to  take  it, 
offering  to  pay  extra  freight,  etc.  They  would  be  happy  to  ac- 
commodate me,  but  their  rules  did  not  admit  of  it.  A  carpet-bag 
could  not  be  sent  from  that  station  at  any  price.  I  jumped  on  to 
the  box,  and  drove  quickly  to  the  nearest  street  of  shops,  where, 
at  a  grocers,  I  bought  for  a  twopence  a  coffee-sack,  and  enclosing 
the  bag,  brought  it  in  a  few  minutes  back  to  the  station.  There 
was  a  good  laugh,  and  they  gave  me  a  receipt  at  once  for  a  sack 
— to  be  kept  in  London  until  called  for. 

On  the  quay,  I  noticed  a  bareheaded  man  drawing  with  col- 
ored crayons  on  a  broad,  smooth  flagstone.  He  had  represented, 
in  a  very  skillful  and  beautiful  manner,  a  salmon  laid  on  a  china 
platter,  opposite  a  broken  plate  of  coarse  crockery;  between 
these  were  some  lines  about  a  "  rich  man's  dish  "  and  a  "  poor 
man's  dinner."  He  was  making  an  ornamental  border  about  it, 
and  over  all  was  written,  "Friends!  lean  get  NO  WORK  ;  I  must 
do  this  or  starve" 

His  hat,  with  a  few  pence  in  it,  stood  by  the  side  of  this. 


FERRY-BOATS.  57 


CHAPTER 


Birkenhead  —  Ferry  Boats  —  Gruff  Englishmen  —  The  Abbey  —  Flour  — 
Market—  The  Park  —  A  Democratic  Institution—  Suburban  Villas,  etc. 

fFHE  ferry-boat  by  which  we  crossed  to  Birkenhead  was  very 
-*-  small  and  dingy.  There  was  no  protection  from  the  weather 
on  board  of  her,  except  a  narrow,  dark  cabin  under  deck.  There 
were  uncushioned  seats  all  around  the  outside,  against  the  rail, 
and  the  rest  of  the  deck  was  mostly  filled  up  with  freight,  spars, 
etc.  She  had  a  bowsprit,  and  a  beautiful  light,  rakish  mast  and 
topmast  fitted  to  carry  a  gaff  sail.  She  was  steered  with  a  wheel 
in  the  stern.  The  pilot  or  master  (a  gentleman  with  a  gold  band 
on  his  hat  and  naval  buttons)  stood  on  the  paddle-boxes  to  direct, 
and  a  boy  stood  over  the  engine  to  pass  orders  below.  The 
engine  was  under  deck,  the  tops  of  the  cylinders  only  appearing 
above  it.  It  was,  however,  entirely  exposed  to  observation,  and 
showed  excellent  workmanship,  and  was  kept  perfectly  clean  and 
highly  polished.  It  was  of  entirely  different  construction  from 
any  American  engine,  having  three  oscillating  cylinders.  The 
"hands"  looked  like  regular  tars,  wearing  tarpaulins,  with  the 
name  of  the  boat  in  gilt  letters  on  the  ribbon,  blue  baize  shirts, 
and  broad-bottomed  trowsers  hung  tight  on  the  hips.  The  boat 
came  alongside  the  wharf,  ran  out  her  hawsers,  and  took  in  her 


58  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

passengers  by  a  narrow  gang-plank ;  and  yet  she  makes  her  trip 
once  in  ten  minutes.  There  would  not  be  room  enough  on  her 
decks  for  one  of  our  Rockaways  to  stand,  and  she  seemed  to  have 
no  idea  of  ferrying  any  thing  but  foot-passengers.  What  would 
the  good  people  of  Birkenhead  think  of  a  Fulton  ferry-boat,  with 
its  long,  light,  and  airy  rooms,  their  floors  level  with  the  street, 
and  broad  carriage-roads  from  stem  to  stern,  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  without  turning  round,  or  ever  a  word  of  command,  or  a 
rope  lifted  from  morning  till  evening  and  from  evening  till  morn- 
ing ?  The  length  of  the  ferry  is  about  the  same  as  the  South 
Ferry  of  Brooklyn,  and  the  fare  one  penny. 

Birkenhead  is  the  most  important  suburb  of  Liverpool,  having 
the  same  relation  to  it  that  Charlestown  has  to  Boston,  or  Brook- 
lyn to  New  York.  When  the  first  line  of  Liverpool  packets  was 
established,  there  were  not  half  a  dozen  houses  here ;  it  now  has 
a  population  of  many  thousands,  and  is  increasing  with  a  rapidity 
hardly  paralleled  in  the  New  World.  This  is  greatly  owing  to 
the  very  liberal  and  enterprising  policy  of  the  land-owners,  which 
affords  an  example  that  might  be  profitably  followed  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  many  of  our  own  large  towns.  There  are  several  public 
squares,  and  the  streets  and  places  are  broad,  and  well  paved  and 
lighted.  A  considerable  part  of  the  town  has  been  built  with 
reference  to  general  effect,  from  the  plans  and  under  the  direction 
of  a  talented  architect,  GILESPIE  GRAHAM. 

We  received  this  information  while  crossing  in  the  ferry-boat, 
from  a  fellow-passenger,  who,  though  a  stranger,  entered  into 
conversation,  and  answered  our  inquiries  with  a  frankness  and 
courtesy  that  we  have  thus  far  received  from  every  one  in  Eng- 
land. By  his  direction,  we  found  near  the  landing  a  square  of 
eight  or  ten  acres,  about  half  of  it  enclosed  by  an  iron  fence,  and 
laid  out  with  tasteful  masses  of  shrubbery  (not  trees)  and  gravel 
walks.  The  houses  about  it  stood  detached,  and  though  of  the 


RUINS  OF  AN  ABBEY.  59 

same  general  style,  were  sufficiently  varied  in  details  not  to 
appear  monotonous.  These  were  all  of  stone. 

We  left  this,  and  were  walking  up  a  long,  broad  street,  when 
the  gentleman  who  had  crossed  at  the  ferry  with  us  joined  us 
again,  and  said  that  as  we  were  strangers  we  might  like  to  look 
at  the  ruins  of  an  Abbey  which  were  in  the  vicinity,  and  he  had 
come  after  us  that  if  we  pleased  he  might  conduct  us  to  it. 

Eight  in  the  midst  of  the  town,  at  the  corner  of  a  new  brick 
house,  we  came  upon  an  old  pile  of  stone  work.  Old,  indeed ! — 
under  the  broken  arch  of  a  Gothic  window,  the  rain-water  had 
been  so  long  trickling  as  to  wear  deep  channels;  cracking, 
crumbling,  bending  over  with  age,  it  seemed  in  many  places  as 
if  the  threatening  mass  had  only  been  till  now  withheld  from 
falling  prostrate  by  the  faithful  ivy  that  clung  to  it,  and  clasped 
it  tight  with  every  fibre. 

You  cannot  imagine  the  contrast  to  the  hot,  hurrying,  noisy 
world  without,  that  we  found  on  entering  the  little  enclosure  of 
the  old  churchyard  and  abbey  walls.  It  was  all  overshadowed 
with  dense  foliage,  and  only  here  and  there  through  the  leaves, 
or  a  shattered  arch  round  which  the  ivy  curled  with  enchanting 
grace,  would  there  be  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky  above.  By  list- 
ening, we  could  still  hear  the  roar  of  wheels,  rumbling  of  rail-cars, 
clanging  of  steamboat  bells,  and  the  shouts  of  jovial  sea-captains, 
drinking  gin  and  water  in  a  neighboring  tea-garden,  over  which 
the  American  flag  was  flying.  But  within  the  walls  there  was 
no  sound  but  the  chirps  of  a  wren,  looking  for  her  nest  in  a  dark 
cranny ;  the  hum  of  bees  about  an  old  hawthorn  bush ;  the  piping 
of  a  cricket  under  a  gravestone,  and  our  own  footsteps  echoed 
from  mysterious  crypts. 

Our  guide  having  pointed  out  to  us  the  form  of  the  ancient 
structure,  and  been  requited  for  his  trouble  by  seeing  the  pleasure 


60  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

he  had  given  us,  took  his  leave.  We  remained  a  long  time,  and 
enjoyed  it,  as  you  may  think. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  Birkenhead  Abbey?  I  never  had 
before.  It  has  no  celebrity ;  but  coming  upon  it  so  fresh  from 
the  land  of  youth,  as  we  did,  so  unexpectant  of  any  thing  of  the 
kind — though  I  have  seen  far  older  ruins,  and  more  renowned, 
I  have  found  none  so  impressive. 

A  ruined  end  of  the  old  prior's  house  had  been  repaired  and 
roofed  over  many  years  ago,  and  was  used  as  a  school-house — 
many  years  ago,  for  the  ivy  on  it  was  very  strong  and  gnarled, 
and  bushes  and  grass  were  growing  all  over  the  roof.  I  send 
you  a  hasty  sketch  of  it;  —  wouldn't  you  like  the  memory  of 
such  a  school  ? 

At  the  market-place  we  went  into  a  baker's  shop,  and,  while 
eating  buns,  learned  that  the  poorest  flour  in  market  was  Ameri- 
can and  the  best  French.  Upon  examination  of  his  stock,  we 
thought  he  had  hardly  a  fair  sample  of  American  flour ;  but  his 
French  flour  was  certainly  remarkably  fine,  and  would  be  so 
considered  at  Rochester.  He  said  it  made  much  whiter  bread 
than  either  American  or  English,  and  he  used  but  little  of  it 
unmixed,  except  for  the  most  delicate  pastry.  French  and 
English  flour  is  sold  in  sacks,  American  in  barrels.  He  thought 
American  flour  was  not  generally  kiln-dried,  as  it  should  be  for 
exportation,*  and  was  much  injured  in  consequence.  When  we 
left  he  obligingly  directed  us  to  several  objects  of  interest  in  the 
vicinity,  and  showed  us  through  the  market.  It  is  but  little  less 

*  The  great  bulk  of  the  flour  -we  are  now  (1851)  exporting  to  England  is  of  inferior 
quality,  worth  about  S3. 50,  when  common  superfine  is  S4.50.  It  is  used  extensively  by 
the  millers  in  England  to  mix  with  a  superior  quality  of  their  own  grinding,  of  English 
wheat.  By  the  way,  the  custom  of  taking  a  toll  in  kind,  as  a  compensation  for  grinding 
at  grist-mills,  which  our  fathers  brought  from  England,  and  which  we  retain,  is  now 
obsolete  there.  The  millers  make  their  charges  in  money,  and  are  paid  as  in  any  other 
business. 


NEW  PARK.  61 


in  size,  and  really  appears  finer  and  more  convenient,  than  the 
one  I  described  in  Liverpool.  The  roof,  which  is  mostly  of  glass, 
is  high  and  airy,  and  is  supported  by  two  rows  of  slender  iron 
columns,  giving  to  the  interior  the  appearance  of  three  light  and 
elegant  arcades.  The  contrivances  to  effect  ventilation  and 
cleanliness  are  very  complete.  It  was  built  by  the  town,  upon 
land  given  to  it  for  the  purpose,  and  cost  $175,000. 

The  baker  had*  begged  of  us  not  to  leave  Birkenhead  without 
seeing  their  New  Park,  and  at  his  suggestion  we  left  our  knap- 
sacks with  him,  and  proceeded  to  it.  As  we  approached  the 
entrance,  we  were  met  by  women  and  girls,  who,  holding  out  a 
cup  of  milk,  asked  us  —  "  Will  you  take  a  cup  of  milk,  sirs  ?  — 
good,  cool,  sweet  coiv's  milk,  gentlemen,  or  right  warm  from  the 
ass  !  "  And  at  the  gate  was  a  herd  of  donkeys,  some  with  cans 
of  milk  strapped  to  them,  others  saddled  and  bridled,  to  be  let  for 
ladies  and  children  to  ride. 

The  gateway,  which  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  ferry, 
and  quite  back  of  the  town,  is  a  great,  massive  block  of  handsome 
Ionic  architecture,  standing  alone,  and  unsupported  by  any  thing 
else  in  the  vicinity,  and  looking,  as  I  think,  heavy  and  awkward. 
There  is  a  sort  of  grandeur  about  it  that  the  English  are  fond  of, 
but  which,  when  it  is  entirely  separate  from  all  other  architect- 
ural constructions,  always  strikes  me  unpleasantly.  It  seems 
intended  as  an  impressive  preface  to  a  great  display  of  art  within; 
but  here,  as  well  as  at  Eaton  Park,  and  other  places  I  have  since 
seen,  it  is  not  followed  up  with  great  things,  the  grounds  immedi- 
ately within  the  grand  entrance  being  simple,  and  apparently 
rather  overlooked  by  the  gardener.  There  is  a  large  archway 
for  carriages,  and  two  smaller  ones  for  people  on  foot,  and,  on 
either  side,  and  over  these,  are  rooms  which  probably  serve  as 
inconvenient  lodges  for  the  laborers.  No  porter  appears,  and  the 
gates  are  freely  opened  to  the  public. 


62  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND, 

Walking  a  short  distance  up  an  avenue,  we  passed  through 
another  light  iron  gate  into  a  thick,  luxuriant,  and  diversified 
garden.  Five  minutes  of  admiration,  and  a  few  more  spent  in 
studying  the  manner  in  which  art  had  been  employed  to  obtain 
from  nature  so  much  beauty,  and  I  was  ready  to  admit  that  in 
democratic  America  there  was  nothing  to  be  thought  of  as  com- 
parable with  this  People's  Garden.  Indeed,  gardening  had  here 
reached  a  perfection  that  I  had  never  before  dreamed  of.  I  can- 
not undertake  to  describe  the  effect  of  so  much  taste  and  skill  as 
had  evidently  been  employed ;  I  will  only  tell  you,  that  we  pass- 
ed by  winding  paths,  over  acres  and  acres,  with  a  constant  vary- 
ing surface,  where  on  all  sides  were  growing  every  variety  of 
shrubs  and  flowers,  with  more  than  natural  grace,  all  set  in  bor- 
ders of  greenest,  closest  turf,  and  all  kept  with  most  consum- 
mate neatness.  At  a  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
gate,  we  came  to  an  open  field  of  clean,  bright,  green-sward, 
closely  mown,  on  wluch  a  large  tent  was  pitched,  and  a  party  of 
boys  in  on  one  part,  and  a  party  of  gentlemen  in  another,  were 
playing  cricket.  Beyond  this  was  a  large  meadow  with  groups 
of  young  trees,  under  which  a  flock  of  sheep  were  reposing, 
and  girls  and  women  with  children,  were  playing.  While 
watching  the  cricketers,  we  were  threatened  with  a  shower, 
and  hastened  to  look  for  shelter,  which  we  found  in  a  pagoda, 
on  an  island  approached  by  a  Chinese  bridge.  It  was  soon 
filled,  as  were  the  other  ornamental  buildings,  by  a  crowd  of 
those  who,  like  ourselves,  had  been  overtaken  in  the  grounds 
by  the  rain ;  and  I  was  glad  to  observe  that  the  privileges  of 
the  garden  were  enjoyed  about  equally  by  all  classes.  There 
were  some  who  were  attended  by  servants,  and  sent  at  once 
for  their  carriages,  but  a  large  proportion  were  of  the  common 
ranks,  and  a  few  women  with  children,  or  suffering  from  ill 
health,  were  evidently  the  wives  of  very  humble  laborers. 


NEW  PARK.  63 


There  were  a  number  of  strangers,  and  some  we  observed  with 
note-books  and  portfolios,  who  seemed  to  have  come  from  a  dis- 
tance to  study  in  the  garden.  The  summer-houses,  lodges, 
bridges,  etc.,  were  all  well  constructed,  and  of  undecaying  mate- 
rials. One  of  the  bridges  which  we  crossed  was  of  our  country- 
man REMINGTON'S  patent,  an  extremely  light  and  graceful 
erection. 

I  obtained  most  of  the  following  information  from  the  head 
working-gardener. 

The  site  of  the  park  and  garden  was,  ten  years  ago,  a  flat, 
clay  farm.  It  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  PAXTON,  in  June, 
1844,  by  whom  it  was  roughly  laid  out  in  its  present  form  by 
June  of  the  following  year.*  Carriage  roads,  thirty-four  feet 
wide,  with  borders  of  ten  feet,  and  walks  varying  in  width,  were 
first  drawn  and  made.  The  excavation  for  a  pond  was  also  im- 
mediately undertaken,  and  the  earth  obtained  from  these  sources 
used  for  making  mounds  and  to  vary  the  surface,  which  has  been 
done  with  much  naturalness.  The  whole  ground  was  thoroughly 
under-drained,  the  minor  drains  of  stone,  the  main  of  tile.  By 
these  sufficient  water  is  obtained  to  fully  supply  the  pond,  or 
lake,  as  they  call  it,  which  is  from  twenty  to  forty  feet  wide,  and 
about  three  feet  deep,  and  meanders  for  a  long  distance  through 
the  garden.  It  is  stocked  with  aquatic  plants,  gold  fish,  and 
swans. 

The  roads  are  macadamized.  On  each  side  of  the  carriage 
way,  and  of  all  the  walks,  pipes  for  drainage  are  laid,  which  com- 
municate with  deep  main  drains  that  run  under  the  edge  of  all 
the  mounds  or  flower  beds.  The  walks  are  laid  first  with  six 
inches  of  fine  broken  stone,  then  three  inches  cinders,  and  the 
surface  with  six  inches  of  fine  rolled  gravel.  All  the  stones  on 

*  Mr.  Kemp  has  the  credit  of  the  design  with  the  public.  I  suppose  that  he  was  em- 
ployed by  Paxton  to  perfect  his  plan  and  superintend  the  construction 


64  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

the  ground  which  were  not  used  for  these  purposes,  were  laid  in 
masses  of  rock-work,  and  mosses  and  rock-plants  attached  to 
them.  The  mounds  were  finally  planted  with  shrubs,  and  heaths 
and  ferns,  and  the  beds  with  flowering  plants.  Between  these 
and  the  walks  and  drives,  is  everywhere  a  belt  of  turf  (which 
by  the  way,  is  kept  close  cut  with  short,  broad  scythes,  and 
shears,  and  swept  with  hair-brooms,  as  we  saw).  Then  the 
rural  lodges,  temples,  pavillion,  bridges,  orchestra  for  a  band  of 
instrumental  music,  etc.,  were  built.  And  so,  in  one  year,  the 
skeleton  of  this  delightful  garden  was  complete. 

But  this  is  but  a  small  part.  Besides  the  cricket  and  an 
archeiy  ground,  large  valleys  were  made  verdant,  extensive 
drives  arranged — plantations,  clumps,  and  avenues  of  trees 
formed,  and  a  large  park  laid  out.  And  all  this  magnificent 
pleasure  ground  is  entirely,  unreservedly,  and  for  ever,  the 
people's  own.  The  poorest  British  peasant  is  as  free  to  enjoy  it 
in  all  its  parts  as  the  British  queen.  More  than  that,  the  baker 
of  Birkenhead  has  the  pride  of  an  OWNER  in  it» 

Is  it  not  a  grand,  good  thing  ?  But  you  are  inquiring  who 
paid  for  it.  The  honest  owners  —  the  most  wise  and  worthy 
townspeople  of  Birkenhead  —  in  the  same  way  that  the  New 
Yorkers  pay  for  "  the  Tombs,"  and  the  Hospital,  and  the  cleaning 
(as  they  say)  of  their  streets. 

Of  the  farm  which  was  purchased,  one  hundred  and  twenty 
acres  have  been  disposed  of  in  the  way  I  have  described.  The 
remaining  sixty  acres,  encircling  the  park  and  garden,  were 
reserved  to  be  sold  or  rented,  after  being  well  graded,  streeted, 
and  planted,  for  private  building  lots.  Several  fine  mansions  are 
already  built  on  these  (having  private  entrances  to  the  park), 
and  the  rest  now  sell  at  $1.25  a  square  yard.  The  whole  concern 
cost  the  town  between  five  and  six  hundred  thousand  dollars. 


EIRKENHEAD.  65 


It  gives  employment  at  present  to  ten  gardeners  and  laborers  in 
summer,  and  to  five  in  winter. 

The  generous  spirit  and  fearless  enterprise  that  has  accom- 
plished this,  has  not  been  otherwise  forgetful  of  the  health  and 
comfort  of  the  poor.*  Among  other  things,  I  remember,  a  public 
washing  and  bathing  house  for  the  town  is  provided.  I  should 
have  mentioned  also,  in  connection  with  the  market,  that  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  there  is  a  range  of  stone  slaughter-houses, 
with  stables,  yards,  pens,  supplies  of  hot  and  cold  water,  and 
other  arrangements  and  conveniences,  that  enlightened  regard  for 
health  and  decency  would  suggest. 

The  consequence  of  all  these  sorts  of  things  is,  that  all  about 
the  town,  lands,  which  a  few  years  ago  were  almost  worthless 
wastes,  have  become  of  priceless  value;  where  no  sound  was 
heard  but  the  bleating  of  goats  and  braying  of  asses  complaining 
of  their  pasturage,  there  is  now  the  hasty  click  and  clatter  of 
many  hundred  busy  trowels  and  hammers.  You  may  drive 
through  wide  and  thronged  streets  of  stately  edifices,  where  were 
only  a  few  scattered  huts,  surrounded  by  quagmires.  Docks  of 
unequaled  size  and  grandeur  are  building,  and  a  forest  of  masts 
grows  along  the  shore ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  this  young 
town  is  to  be  not  only  remarkable  as  a  most  agreeable  and 
healthy  place  of  residence,  but  that  it  will  soon  be  distinguished 
for  extensive  and  profitable  commerce.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the 
only  town  I  ever  saw  that  has  been  really  built  at  all  in  accord- 
ance with  the  advanced  science,  taste,  and  enterprising  spirit  that 
are  supposed  to  distinguish  the  nineteenth  century.  I  do  not 
doubt  it  might  be  found  to  have  plenty  of  exceptions  to  its  gen- 

*  "  Few  towns,  in  modern  times,  have  been  built  with  such  regard  to  sanitary  regula- 
tions as  Birkenhead ;  and  in  no  instance  has  so  much  been  done  for  the  health,  comfort, 
and  enjoyment  of  a  people,  as  by  those  energetic  individuals  with  whose  names  the  rise 
and  progress  of  Birkenhead  are  so  intimately  connected."— Dr.  J.  H.  Robertson. 

5 


AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


eral  character,  but  I  did  not  inquire  for  these,  nor  did  I  happen 
to  observe  them.  Certainly,  in  what  I  have  noticed,  it  is  a  model 
town,  and  may  be  held  up  as  an  example,  not  only  to  philanthro- 
pists and  men  of  taste,  but  to  speculators  and  men  of  business. 

After  leaving  the  park,  we  ascended  a  hill,  from  the  top  of 
which  we  had  a  fine  view  of  Liverpool  and  Birkenhead.  Its 
sides  were  covered  with  villas,  with  little  gardens  about  them. 
The  architecture  was  generally  less  fantastic,  and  the  style  and 
materials  of  building  more  substantial,  than  is  usually  employed 
in  the  same  class  of  residences  with  us.  Yet  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  the  same  stuck-up  and  uneasy  pretentious  air  about  them 
that  the  suburban  houses  of  our  own  city  people  so  commonly 
have.  Possibly  this  is  the  effect  of  association,  in  my  mind,  of 
steady,  reliable  worth  and  friendship  with  plain  or  old-fashioned 
dwellings,  for  I  often  find  it  difficult  to  discover  in  the  buildings 
themselves  the  elements  of  such  expression.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  it  is  more  generally  owing  to  some  disunity  in  the  design — 
often,  perhaps,  to  a  want  of  keeping  between  the  mansion  and  its 
grounds,  or  its  situation.  The  architect  and  the  gardener  do  not 
understand  each  other,  and  commonly  the  owner  or  resident  is 
totally  at  variance  in  his  tastes  and  intentions  from  both ;  or  the 
man  whose  ideas  the  plan  is  made  to  serve,  or  who  pays  for  it, 
has  no  true,  independent  taste,  but  had  fancies  to  be  accommoda- 
ted, which  only  follow  confusedly  after  custom  or  fashion.  I 
think,  with  Ruskin,  it  is  a  pity  that  every  man's  house  cannot  be 
really  his  own,  and  that  he  cannot  make  all  that  is  true,  beautiful, 
and  good  in  his  own  character,  tastes,  pursuits,  and  history,  man- 
ifest in  it. 

But  however  fanciful  and  uncomfortable  many  of  the  villa 
houses  about  Liverpool  and  Birkenhead  appear  at  first  sight,  the 
substantial  and  thorough  manner  in  which  most  of  them  are  built 
will  atone  for  many  faults.  The  friendship  of  nature  has  been 


THE  VILLAS.  67 


secured  for  such.  Dampness,  heat,  cold,  will  be  welcome  to  do 
their  best ;  every  day  they  will  improve.  In  fifty  or  a  hundred 
years  fashions  may  change,  and  they  will  appear,  perhaps,  quaint, 
possibly  grotesque ;  but  still  strong,  home-like,  and  hospitable. 
They  have  no  shingles  to  rot,  no  glued  and  puttied  and  painted 
gimcrackery,  to  warp  and  crack  and  moulder ;  and  can  never 
look  so  shabby,  and  desolate,  and  dreary,  as  will  nine-tenths  of 
the  buildings  of  the  same  denomination  now  erecting  about  New 
York,  almost  as  soon  as  they  lose  the  raw,  cheerless,  impostor- 
like  airs  which  seem  inseparable  from  their  newness. 


68  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Railway  Ride  —  Second  Class  —  Inconvenient  Arrangements  —  First 
Walk  in  the  Country  —  England  itself — A  Rural  Landscape  —  Hedges 
— Approach  to  a  Hamlet  —  The  Old  Ale-house  and  the  Old  John  Bull  — 
A  Talk  with  Country  People  —  Notions  of  America  —  Free  Trade  —  The 
Yew  Tree  — The  Old  Rural  Church  and  Graveyard  — A  Park  Gate  — A 
Model  Fanner  — The  Old  Village  Inn  — A  Model  Kitchen  — A  Model 
Landlady. 

T1TE  were  very  tired  when  we  again  reached  the  baker's.  After 
passenger-life  at  sea,  a  man's  legs  need  to  be  brought  into 
active  service  somewhat  gradually.  As  we  had  spent  more  time 
than  we  had  meant  to  at  Birkenhead,  we  determined  to  rest  our- 
selves for  a  few  minutes,  and  get  a  start  of  a  few  miles  into  the 
country  by  the  railroad.  A  seat,  however,  on  the  hard  board 
benches  of  an  English  second-class  rail-carriage,  crowded,  and 
your  feet  cramped  under  you,  does  not  remove  fatigue  very 
rapidly. 

A  heavy  cloud  darkened  the  landscape,  and  as  we  emerged  in 
a  few  moments  from  the  dark  tunnel,  whirling  out  of  town,  big 
drops  of  rain  came  slanting  in  upon  us.  A  lady  coughed,  and 
we  closed  the  window.  Soon  the  road  ran  through  a  deep  cut- 
ting, with  only  occasionally  such  depressions  of  its  green-sodded 
bank,  that  we  could,  through  the  dusty  glass,  get  glimpses  of  the 
country.  In  successive  gleams : 


A  RAIL  WA  Y  RIDE.  69 


A  market-garden,  with  rows  of  early  cabbages,  and  lettuce, 
and  peas ;  — 

Over  a  hedge,  a  nice,  new  stone  villa,  with  the  gardener  shov- 
ing up  the  sashes  of  the  conservatory,  and  the  maids  tearing 
clothes  from  the  drying-lines ;  — 

A  bridge,  with  children  shouting  and  waving  hats  ;  — 

A  field  of  wheat,  in  drills  as  precisely  straight,  and  in  earth  as 
clean  and  finely  tilled,  as  if  it  were  a  garden-plant ;  — 

A  bit  of  broad  pasture,  with  colts  and  cows  turning  tail  to  the 
squall ;  long  hills  in  the  back,  with  some  trees  and  a  steeple 
rising  beyond  them ;  — 

Another  few  minutes  of  green  bank ;  — 

A  jerk — a  stop.     A  gruff  shout : 

"  BROMBRO  ! " 

A  great  fuss  to  get  the  window  on  the  other  side  from  us  open ; 
calling  the  conductor;  having  the  door  unlocked;  squeezing 
through  the  ladies*  knees,  and  dragging  our  packs  over  their  laps 
— all  borne  with  a  composure  that  shows  them  to  be  used  to  it, 
and  that  they  take  it  as  a  necessary  evil  of  railroad  traveling. 
The  preparations  for  rain  are  just  completed  as  we  emerge  upon 
a  platform,  and  now — down  it  comes  in  a  torrent.  We  rush,  with 
a  quantity  of  floating  muslin,  white  ankles,  and  thin  shoes,  under 
an  arch.  With  a  sharp  whistle  and  hoarse  puffing  the  train 
rumbles  onward ;  grooms  pick  up  the  lap-dog  and  baskets ;  flaunt- 
ing white  skirts  are  moved  again  across  the  track ;  another  rush, 
in  which  a  diminutive  French  sun-shade  is  assisted  by  a  New 
York  umbrella  to  protect  a  new  English  bonnet ;  a  graceful  bow 
in  return,  with  lifting  eyebrows,  as  if  in  inquiry ;  and  we  are 
altogether  crowded  in  the  station-house. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  go  off  in  carriages,  and  room  is  left  us 
in  the  little  waiting-room  to  strap  on  our  knapsacks.  The  rain 
slackens  —  ceases,  and  we  mount,  by  stone  steps  up  a  bank  of 


70  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

roses  and  closely-shaven  turf,  to  the  top  of  the  bridge  over  the 
cutting. 

There  we  were  right  in  the  midst  of  it !  The  country  —  and 
such  a  country !  —  green,  dripping,  glistening,  gorgeous  !  We 
stood  dumb-stricken  by  its  loveliness,  as,  from  the  bleak  April 
and  bare  boughs  we  had  left  at  home,  broke  upon  us  that  English 
May  —  sunny,  leafy,  blooming  May  —  in  an  English  lane ;  with 
hedges,  English  hedges,  hawthorn  hedges,  all  in  blossom ;  homely 
old  farm-houses,  quaint  stables,  and  haystacks ;  the  old  church 
spire  over  the  distant  trees ;  the  mild  sun  beaming  through  the 
watery  atmosphere,  and  all  so  quiet  —  the  only  sounds  the  hum 
of  bees,  and  the  crisp  grass-tearing  of  a  silken-skinned,  real  (un- 
imported)  Hereford  cow,  over  the  hedge. 

No  longer  excited  by  daring  to  think  we  should  see  it,  as  we 
discussed  the  scheme  round  the  old  home-fire;  no  longer  cheering 
ourselves  with  it  in  the  stupid,  tedious  ship ;  no  more  forgetful 
of  it  in  the  bewilderment  of  the  busy  town  —  but  there  we  were, 
right  in  the  midst  of  it ;  long  tune  silent,  and  then  speaking  softly, 
as  if  it  were  enchantment  indeed,  we  gazed  upon  it  and  breathed 
it  —  never  to  be  forgotten.  Ah,  me ! 

At  length  we  walked  on  —  rapidly  —  but  frequently  stopping, 
one  side  and  the  other,  like  children  in  a  garden ;  hedges  still, 
with  delicious  fragrance,  on  each  side  of  us,  and  on,  as  far  as  we 
can  see,  true  farm-fencing  hedges ;  nothing  trim,  stiff,  nice,  and 
amateur-like,  but  the  verdure  broken,  tufty,  lovr,  and  natural. 
They  are  set  on  a  ridge  of  earth,  thrown  out  from  a  ditch  beside 
them,  which  raises  and  strengthens  them  as  a  fence.  They  are 
nearly  all  hawthorn,  which  is  now  covered  in  patches,  as  if 
after  a  slight  fall  of  snow,  with  clusters  of  white  or  pink  blossoms 
over  its  light  green  foliage.  Here  and  there  a  holly  bush,  with 
bunches  of  scarlet  berries,  and  a  few  other  shrubs,  mingle  with  it. 
A  cart  meets  us  —  a  real  heavy,  big-wheeled  English  cart ;  and 


VILLAGE  ALE-HOUSE.  71 

English  horses  —  real  big,  shaggy-hoofed,  sleek,  heavy  English 
cart-horses;  and  a  carter  —  a  real  apple-faced,  smock-frocked, 
red-headed,  wool-hatted  carter  —  breeches,  stockings,  hob-nailed 
shoes,  and  "Gee-up  Dobbin"  English  carter. 

Little  birds  hop  along  in  the  road  before  us,  and  we  guess  at 
their  names,  first  of  all  electing  one  to  be  Robin-Redbreast.  We 
study  the  flowers  under  the  hedge,  and  determine  them  nothing 
else  than  primroses  and  buttercups.  Through  the  gates  we  ad- 
mire the  great,  fat,  clean-licked,  contented-faced  cows,  and  large, 
white,  long-wooled  sheep. 

What  else  was  there  ?  I  cannot  remember ;  but  there  was 
that  altogether  that  made  us  forget  our  fatigue,  disregard  the  rain, 
thoughtless  of  the  way  we  were  going  —  serious,  happy,  and 
grateful.  And  this  excitement  continued  for  many  days. 

At  length,  as  it  becomes  drenching  again,  we  approach  a  stone 
spire.  A  stone  house  interrupts  our  view  in  front ;  the  road 
winds  round  it,  between  it  and  another ;  turns  again,  and  there 
on  our  left  is  the  church  —  the  old  ivy-covered,  brown  stone  vil- 
lage church,  with  the  yew-tree  —  we  knew  it  at  once,  and  the 
heaped-up,  green,  old  English  churchyard.  We  turn  to  the 
right ;  there  is  the  old  ale-house,  long,  low,  thatched-roofed.  We 
run  in  at  the  open  door ;  there  he  sits,  the  bluff  and  hearty  old 
fellow,  with  the  long-stemmed  pipe  and  the  foaming  pewter  mug 
on  the  little  table  before  him.  At  the  same  moment  with  us 
comes  in  another  man.  He  drops  in  a  seat — raps  with  his  whip. 
Enter  a  young  woman,  neat  and  trim,  with  exactly  the  white  cap, 
smooth  hair,  shiny  face,  bright  eyes  and  red  cheeks  we  are  look- 
ing for. 

"  Muggoyail,  lass  !  " 

Mug  of  ale  —  ay,  that's  it !  Mug  of  ale !  —  Fill  up !  fill  up ! 
and  the  toast  shall  be  —  "  MERRIE  ENGLAND  !  HURRAH  ! " 

We  sit  with  them  for  some  time,  and  between  puffs  of  smoke, 


72  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

the  talk  is  of  "  the  weather  and  the  crops."  The  maid  leaves 
the  door  open,  so  we  can  look  into  the  kitchen,  where  a  smart  old 
woman  is  ironing  by  a  bright  coal  fire.  Two  little  children 
venture  before  us.  I  have  just  succeeded  in  coaxing  the  girl  on 
to  my  knee,  as  C.  mentions  that  we  are  Americans.  The  old 
woman  lays  down  her  iron  and  puts  on  her  spectacles  to  look  at 
us.  The  stout  man  who  had  risen  to  take  an  observation  of  the 
weather,  seats  himself  again  and  calls  for  another  mug  and  twist. 
The  landlord  (a  tall  thin  man,  unfortunately)  looks  in  and  asks 
how  times  go  where  we  come  from.  Plenty  of  questions  follow, 
that  show  alike  the  interest  and  the  ignorance  of  our  companions 
about  America,  it  being  confused  apparently  in  4heir  minds  with 
Ireland,  Guinea,  and  the  poetical  Indies.  After  a  little  straight- 
ening out,  and  explanation  of  the  distance  to  it,  its  climate  and 
civilized  condition,  they  ask  about  the  present  crops,  the  price  of 
wheat,  about  rents,  tithes,  and  taxes.  In  return,  we  get  only 
grumbling.  "The  country  is  ruined;"  "things  weren't  so  when 
they  were  young  as  they  be  now ;"  and  so  on,  just  as  a  company 
of  our  tavern-lounging  farmers  would  talk,  except  that  every 
complaint  ends  with  blaming  Free  Trade.  "  Tree-trade — hoye, 
sirs — Vree-trade  be  killing  the  varmers." 

We  left  them  as  soon  as  the  shower  slackened,  but  stopped 
again  immediately  to  look  at  the  yew  through  the  churchyard 
gate.  It  was  a  very  old  and  decrepit  tree — with  dark  and  funer- 
eal foliage  —  the  stiff  trunk  and  branches  of  our  red-cedar,  with 
the  leaf  of  the  hemlock,  but  more  dark  and  glossy  than  either. 
The  walls  of  the  church  are  low,  but  higher  in  one  part  than 
another.  The  roof,  which  is  slated,  is  high  and  steep.  The 
tower  is  square,  with  buttresses  on  the  corners,  on  the  tops  of 
which  are  quaint  lions  rampant.  It  is  surmounted  by  a  tall, 
symmetrical  spire — solid  stone  to  the  ball,  over  which,  as  I  am 
the  son  of  a  Puritan,  is  a  weather-cock,  and  not  a  cross.  There 


A  MODEL  KITCHEN.  73 

are  little,  narrow  windows  in  the  steeple,  and  swallows  are  flying 
in  and  out  of  them.  Old  weather-beaten  stone  and  mortar,  glass, 
lead,  iron,  and  matted  ivy,  but  not  a  splinter  of  wood  or  a  daub 
of  paint.  Old  England  for  ever ! — Amen. 

A  mile  or ,  two  more  of  such  walking  as  before  the  shower,  and 
we  came  to  a  park  gate.  It  was,  with  the  lodges  by  its  side,  neat, 
simple,  and  substantial.  The  park  was  a  handsome  piece  of  old 
woods,  but,  as  seen  from  the  road,  not  remarkable.  We  were 
told,  however,  that  there  was  a  grand  old  hall  and  fine  grounds  a 
long  way  within.  Near  the  park  there  were  signs  of  an  improv- 
ing farmer :  fields  of  mangel-wurzel  in  drills ;  large  fields,  partly 
divided  by  wire  fences,  within  which  were  flocks  of  sheep ;  marks 
of  recent  under-draining ;  hedges  trimmed  squarely,  and  every 
thing  neat,  straight,  and  business-like. 

As  it  grows  dark  we  approach  another  village.  The  first 
house  on  the  left  is  an  inn — a  low,  two-story  house  of  light  drab- 
colored  stone.  A  bunch  of  grapes  (cast  in  iron)  and  a  lantern 
are  hung  out  from  it  over  the  foot-path,  and  over  the  front  door 
is  a  square  sign  —  "  THE  RED  LION  —  licensed  to  sell  foreign 
spirits  and  beer,  to  be  drunk  on  the  premises."  We  turn  into  a 
dark  hall,  and  opening  a  door  to  the  left,  enter  —  the  kitchen  ? 
Such  a  kitchen !  You  would  not  believe  me  if  I  could  describe 
how  bright  every  thing  is.  You  would  think  the  fireplace  a 
show-model,  for  the  very  bars  of  the  grate  are  glistening.  It  is 
all  a-glow  with  red-hot  coals ;  a  bright  brass  tea-kettle  swings 
and  sings  from  a  polished  steel  crane  —  hook,  jack,  and  all  like 
silver ;  the  brass  coal-scuttle,  tongs,  shovel,  and  warming-pan  are 
blazingly  radiant,  and  the  walls  and  mantel-piece  are  covered 
with  bright  plate-covers,  and  I  know  not  what  other  metallic  fur- 
niture, all  burnished  to  the  highest  degree. 

The  landlady  rises  and  begs  to  take  our  wet  hats  —  a  model 
landlady,  too.  What  a  fine  eye  !  —  a  kind  and  welcoming  black 


74  AN  AMERICAN  PARKER  IN  ENGLAND. 

eye.  Fair  and  stout ;  elderly  —  a  little  silver  in  her  hair,  just 
showing  its  otherwise  thick  blackness  to  be  no  lie ;  a  broad-frilled, 
clean,  white  cap  and  collar,  and  a  black  dress.  Ah  ha !  one  of 
the  widows  that  we  have  read  of.  We  hesitate  to  cross  the  clean- 
scoured,  buff,  tile  floor  with  our  muddy  shoes ;  but  she  draws 
arm-chairs  about  the  grate,  and  lays  slippers  before  them,  stirs 
up  the  fire,  though  it  is  far  from  needing  it,  and  turns  to  take  our 
knapsacks.  "  We  must  be  fatigued — it's  not  easy  walking  in  the 
rain  ;  she  hopes  we  can  make  ourselves  comfortable." 
There  is  every  prospect  of  it. 


TALK  WITH  A  FARMER.  75 


CHAPTER  X. 

Talk  with  a  Fanner ;  with  a  tender-hearted  Wheelright  —  An  Amusing 
Story  —  Notions  of  America  —  Supper  —  Speech  of  the  English  —  Pleas- 
ant Tones  —  Quaint  Expressions  —  The  Twenty-ninth  of  May  —  Zaccheus 
in  the  Oak  Tree  —  Education  —  Bed-chamber  —  A  Nightcap,  and.... a 
Nightcap. 

AN  one  side  near  the  fire  there  was  a  recess  in  the  wall,  in 
^  which  was  a  settle,  (a  long,  high-backed,  wooden  seat.)  Two 
men  with  pipes  and  beer  sat  in  it,  with  whom  we  fell  to  talking. 
One  of  them  proved  to  be  a  fanner,  the  other  a  jack-of-all-trades, 
but  more  distinctly  of  the  wheelright's,  and  a  worshiper  of  and 
searcher  after  ideal  women,  a*s  he  more  than  once  intimated  to  us. 
We  were  again  told  by  the  farmer  that  free  trade  was  ruining  the 
country — no  farmer  could  live  long  in  it.  He  spoke  with  a  bitter 
jocoseness  of  the  regularity  of  his  taxes,  and  said  that  though 
they  played  the  devil  with  every  thing  else,  he  always  knew  how 
tithes  would  be.  He  paid,  I  think  he  said,  about  a  dollar  an  acre 
every  year  to  the  church,  though  he  never  went  to  it  in  his  life ; 
always  went  to  chapel,  as  his  father  did  before  him.  He  was  an 
Independent ;  but  there  were  so  few  of  them  thereabouts  that 
they  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  minister,  and  only  occasionally 
had  preaching.  When  he  learned  that  we  were  from  America, 
he  was  anxious  to  know  how  church  matters  were  there.  Though 


76  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

a  rather  intelligent  man,  he  was  utterly  ignorant  that  we  had  no 
State  Church ;  and  though  a  dissenter,  the  idea  of  a  government 
giving  free  trade  to  all  sorts  of  religious  doctrine  seemed  to  be 
startling  and  fearful  to  him.  But  when  I  told  him  what  the 
rent  (or  the  interest  on  the  value)  of  my  farm  was,  and  what 
were  its  taxes,  he  wished  that  he  was  young  that  he  might  go  to 
America  himself;  he  really  did  not  see  how  he  should  be  able  to 
live  here  much  longer.  He  rented  a  farm  of  about  fifty  acres, 
and  was  a  man  of  about  the  same  degree  of  intelligence  and  in- 
formation that  you  would  expect  of  the  majority  of  those  owning 
a  similar  farm  with  us.  Except  that  he  was  somewhat  stouter 
than  most  Yankees,  he  did  not  differ  much  in  appearance  or  dress 
from  many  of  our  rather  old-fashioned  farmers. 

The  tender-hearted  wheelwright  could  hardly  believe  that  we 
were  really  born  and  brought  up  in  America.  He  never  thought 
any  foreigners  could  learn  to  speak  the  language  so  well.  He  too 
was  rather  favorably  struck  with  the  idea  of  going  to  America, 
when  we  answered  his  inquiries  with  regard  to  mechanics'  wages. 
He  was  very  cautious,  however,  and  cross-questioned  us  a  long 
time  about  the  cost  of  every  thing  there — the  passage,  the  great 
heat  of  the  climate,  the  price  of  beer ;  and  at  length,  touching 
his  particular  weakness,  he  desired  to  be  told  candidly  how  it 
would  be  if  he  should  marry  before  he  went.  If  he  should  get 
a  wife,  a  real  handsome  one,  would  it  be  safe  for  him  to  take  her 
there  ?  He  had  heard  a  story — perhaps  we  knew  whether  it  was 
true  or  not — of  a  man  who  took  a  handsome  wife  out  with  him, 
and  a  black  man,  who  was  a  great  rich  lord  in  our  country,  took 
a  great  liking  to  her,  and  offered  the  man  ten  thousand  pounds 
for  her,  which  he  refused ;  and  so  the  great  black  lord  went  away 
very  wroth  and  vexed.  When  he  was  gone,  the  woman  up- 
braided her  husband :  "  Thou  fool,  why  didst  thee  not  take  it  and 
let  me  go  with  him  ?  I  would  have  returned  to  thee  to-morrow." 


SUPPER  — BED-CHAMBERS.  77 

Then  the  man  followed  after  the  black  lord,  and  sold  his  wife  to 
him  for  ten  thousand  pounds.  But  the  next  day  she  did  not 
return,  nor  the  next,  neither  the  next ;  and  so  the  man  went  to 
look  for  her ;  and  lo !  he  found  her  all  dressed  up  in  silk  and 
satin,  'lighting  from  a  coach,  and  footmen  waiting  upon  her.  So 
he  says  to  her,  "Why  didst  thee  not  return  the  next  day?" 
"  Dost  take  me  for  a  fool,  goodman  ? "  quoth  she,  and  stepped 
back  into  her  fine  coach  and  drove  off;  and  so  he  lost  his  hand- 
some wife. 

Besides  the  kitchen,  there  were,  on  the  lower  floor  of  the  inn, 
two  or  three  small  dining  or  tea  rooms,  a  little  office  or  account- 
ing closet  for  the  mistress,  and  a  tap-room,  which  is  a  small 
apartment  for  smoking  and  drinking.  These  are  all  plainly  but 
neatly  furnished.  There  is  a  large  parlor  above  stairs,  somewhat 
elegantly  furnished.  The  kitchen,  tap-room,  and  office  are  low 
rooms,  and  over  these  is  the  parlor.  The  dining-rooms  are 
higher,  and  over  them  are  the  bed-chambers.  Thus  the  parlor 
is  allowed  a  high  ceiling,  level  with  the  eaves  of  the  roof,  and 
you  enter  it  from  a  landing  some  steps  lower  than  the  bed-cham- 
bers. The  latter  are  carried  up  under  the  roof,  with  dormer 
windows,  and  are  very  pleasant  rooms.  It  will  be  seen  that  all 
the  traveler's  apartments  are  thus  made  spacious  at  the  expense 
of  height  in  the  others,  and  that  yet  there  is  a  convenient  arrange- 
ment and  connection  of  the  whole. 

We  had  supper  in  a  little  back  room,  as  neat  as  care  and 
scouring  could  make  and  keep  it.  The  table  was  much  such  a 
one  as  Mrs.  Marcombe,  in  Hanover,  would  have  set  for  a  couple 
of  tired  White  Mountain  pedestrians,  except  the  absence  of  any 
kind  of  cakes  or  pies.  The  ham  had  a  peculiar  taste,  and  was 
very  good — C.  says  the  least  unpleasant  of  any  he  was  ever 
tempted  to  eat.  It  had  been  dried  by  hanging  from  the  ceiling 
of  the  kitchen,  instead  of  being  regularly  smoked,  as  is  our  prac- 


78  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

tice.     The  milk  and  butter  (which  was  not  in  the  least  salted) 
were  very  sweet  and  high-flavored. 

In  the  evening  we  had  a  long  talk  with  the  old  woman  and  her 
daughter.  The  latter  was  a  handsome  person,  with  much  such  a 
good,  beaming  face  as  her  mother,  but  with  youth,  and  more  re- 
finement from  education  and  intelligence.  She  also  was  a  widow, 
with  two  sweet,  shy  little  girls. 

There  are  peculiarities  in  the  speech  of  these  women  that  would 
distinguish  them  anywhere  from  native  Americans.  Perhaps  the 
novelty  of  them  is  pleasing,  but  it  has  seemed  to  us  that  the 
speech  of  most  of  the  people,  above  the  lowest  class  of  laborers 
whom  we  have  met,  is  more  agreeable  and  better  than  we  often 
hear  at  home.  Perhaps  the  climate  may  have  effect  in  making 
the  people  more  steadily  animated — the  utterance  more  distinct 
and  varied.  Sentences  are  more  generally  finished  with  a  rising 
inflection,  syllables  are  more  forcibly  accented,  and  quite  often,  as 
with  our  landlady,  there  is  a  rich  musical  tone  in  the  conversa- 
tional voice,  to  which  we  are  not  yet  so  much  accustomed  but  that 
it  compels  us  to  listen  deferentially.  I  wonder  that  beauty  of 
speech  is  not  more  thought  of  as  an  accomplishment.  It  is  surely 
capable  of  great  cultivation,  and  should  not  be  forgotten  in  edu- 
cation. 

Except  in  the  lower  class,  the  choice  of  words  seems  often 
elegant,  and  we  hear  few  idiomatic  phrases  or  provincialisms. 
Where  we  do  notice  them,  in  the  class  I  am  now  speaking  of,  it 
would  not  seem  an  affectation  of  singular  language  in  an  educa- 
ted person  with  us,  but  rather  a  fortunate  command  of  vigorous 
Saxon  words.  We  have  never  any  difficulty  in  understanding 
them,  while  we  do  sometimes  have  to  reconstruct  our  sentences, 
and  find  substitutes  for  some  of  our  words,  before  we  are  plainly 
understood.  The  "  H"  difficulty  is  an  exception  to  all  this,  with 
nearly  all  the  people,  except  the  most  polished,  that  we  have  met. 


THE  TWENTY-NINTH  OF  MAY. 


Is  it  not  singular  ?  Among  the  lowest  classes,  however,  there 
are  many  words  used  that  puzzle  us ;  others  are  pronounced  curi- 
ously, and  many  of  our  common  words  are  used  in  new  combina- 
tions. There  is  an  old-fashioned,  quaint  set  of  words  in  common 
use  that  we  only  understand  from  having  met  with  them  in  old 
books — in  the  Bible,  for  instance.  The  words  Master  and  Mistress 
(instead  of  Mister  and  Misses,  as  we  have  got  to  pronounce 
them),  and  lad  and  lass,  are  usual.  "Here,  lad!"  "Wull, 
Maister?"  I  first  heard  in  the  Liverpool  market.  I  passed  a 
man,  there,  too,  leading  a  dray-horse,  with  a  heavy  load,  up  one 
of  the  steep  streets.  He  was  encouraging  him  in  this  way: 
"  Coom  on,  my  lad !  coom  on,  my  good  lad ! "  When  he  had 
reached  the  brow,  he  stopped  and  went  before  the  noble  beast, 
who,  with  glistening  eyes,  and  ears  playing  beautifully,  bowed  his 
head  to  be  patted :  " Good  lad!  good  lad!  Well,  thee's  done  it!"* 

We  had  noticed  yesterday,  in  Liverpool,  that  the  omnibuses 
were  decorated  with  branches  of  trees,  ribbons,  and  flags ;  the 
union-jack  (British  ensign)  was  hoisted  in  several  places,  the 
children  seemed  to  be  enjoying  a  half-holiday  in  the  afternoon, 
and  once  we  saw  them  going  together  in  an  irregular  procession, 
carrying  a  little  one  dressed  with  leaves  and  crowned  with  a  gilt 
paper  cap,  and  singing  together  in  shrill  chorus  some  verses,  of 
which  we  only  understood  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  words : 
"The  twenty-ninth  of  May!  the  twenty-ninth  of  May!"  It 
occurred  to  C.  to  ask  whether  all  this  was  intended  to  celebrate 
any  thing.  "  Oh,  surely,"  our  hostess  said,  "  it  was  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  May  —  King  Charles-and-the-Oak  day."  In  her  hus- 

*  A  gentleman,  riding  towards  Chowbet,  and  seeing  a  boy  in  the  road,  shouted  out  to 
him,  "  My  lad,  am  I  half-way  to  Chowbet  ?  "  Young  Lancashire  looked  up  at  the  querist, 
and  said,  "Hah  con  aw  tell,  tha'  foo',  when  I  doon't  know  wheear  ta'  coom  fra?"— 
Liverpool  Paper. 


AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


band's  time,  they  used  always  to  keep  it  in  good  style,  ornament- 
ing their  house  all  over  with  oak  boughs ;  and  all  the  stage- 
coaches and  the  horses  used  to  be  decked  with  oak  boughs  too. 
"  How  beautifully,"  says  C.  aside,  "  do  such  pretty  simple  customs 
keep  alive  the  remembrance  of  old  historic  facts  !  "  "  But  why 
do  they  carry  about  the  child?"  She  did  not  recollect  clearly, 
but  she  had  the  impression  that  King  Charles  was  a  baby  when 
it  occurred.  She  had  forgotten  exactly  how  it  was,  she  said, 
"  but  it  told  all  about  it  in  the  Bible."  "  In  the  Bible !  mother ; 
you  mean  in  the  History  of  England,  do  you  not  ? "  said  her 
daughter,  smiling.  "Was  it?"  replied  the  old  lady;  "I  never 
had  time  to  read  much  in  the  large  History  of  England.  Let 
me  see — why,  no ;  now  I  am  sure  it  was  in  the  Bible.  Don't 
you  remember — what's  his  name — Zack — Zack — Zacheriah?  yes, 
Zacheriah ;  how  he  climbed  up  into  an  oak  tree  to  see  King 
Charles  go  by ! " 

A  large  and  most  powerful  class,  including  many  even  of  the 
more  conservative  of  the  Dissenters  in  England,  are  terribly 
afraid  of  a  national  system  of  education  that  shall  be  free  from 
Church  influence.  The  people  had  better  be  left  to  grow  up  in 
ignorance,  rather  than  that  they  should  not  be  instructed  in  theo- 
logical dogmas.  I  have  actually  heard  a  refined  and  educated 
gentleman,  occupying  an  influential  position,  advocate  the  idea 
that  all  the  education  the  common  people  needed  was  so  much  as 
would  enable  them  to  read  their  Bible,  prayer-book,  and  cate- 
chism. Except  for  this  he  would  never  let  them  have  a  teacher, 
but  would  leave  them  to  the  parson.  He  would  break  up  every 
Dissenter's  school — have  no  school  in  the  land  that  was  not  a 
part  of  the  Church.  The  godless  system  of  education  which  was 
now  favored  in  high  quarters  (on  the  plan  of  our  New  England 
common  schools!)  he  verily  believed,  if  adopted,  would  be  a 
national  sin  that  God  would  arise  in  his  anger  to  punish. 


ACCOMMODATIONS.  81 


Our  landlady  had  lived  almost  to  old  age  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Church,  hi  which  the  story  of  Zaccheus  is  every  year  read 
aloud,  and  in  which  a  religious  celebration  of  the  Restoration  of 
King  Charles  is  by  law  performed  every  29th  of  May.  But  a 
person  of  sound  faculties,  native-born,  could  not  probably  be  found 
in  New  England,  whose  godless  education  would  not  have  made 
impossible  such  a  confusion  of  religious  instruction  as  had  been 
given  her. 

I  am  writing  now  in  my  bed-room.  Though  the  ceiling  is  low, 
it  is  large  and  well  furnished.  There  are  large  pitchers  of  water, 
foot-bath,  and  half-a-dozen  towels.  The  bed  is  very  large,  clean, 
and  deeply  curtained.  The  landlady  has  sent  me  up  a  glass  of 
her  home-brewed  beer,  with  a  nightcap,  which  I  noticed  she  hung 
by  the  fire  when  I  left  the  kitchen.  The  chambermaid  has  drawn 
down  the  bedclothes,  and  says,  "  The  bed  has  been  well  aired, 
sir."  Good  night. 


82  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Break  of  Day  —  A  Full  Heart  —  Familiar  Things  —  The  Village  at 
Sunrise  —  Flowers  —  Birds  —  Dog  Kennels  —  "  The  Squire  "  and  "  The 
Hall "—  Rooks  —  Visit  to  a  Small  Farm  —  The  Cows  —  The  Milking  — 
The  Dairy-Maids  —  The  Stables  —  Manure  —  Bones  —  Pasture  —  White 
Clover  —  Implements  —  Carts  —  The  English  Plow  and  Harrow. 

31s*  .May. 

TT  was  very  early  this  morning  when  I  became  gradually  aware 
-*-  of  the  twittering  of  house-sparrows,  and  was  soon  after 
brought  to  more  distinct  consciousness  of  time  and  place  by  the 
long,  clear  note  of  some  other  stranger  bird.  I  stepped  from  bed 
and  kneeled  at  a  little,  low,  latticed  window,  curtained  without  by 
a  woodbine.  Parting  the  foliage  with  my  hands,  I  looked  out 
upon  a  cluster  of  low-thatched  cottages,  half  overgrown  with  ivy ; 
a  blooming  hawthorn  hedge,  enclosing  a  field  of  heavy  grass  and 
clover  glistening  with  dew ;  a  few  haystacks ;  another  field  be- 
yond, spotted  with  sheep  ;  a  group  of  trees  ;  and  then  some  low 
hills,  over  which  the  dawn  was  kindling,  with  a  faint  blush,  the 
quiet,  smoky  clouds  in  a  gray  sky.  It  may  seem  an  uninteresting 
landscape,  but  I  gazed  upon  it  with  great  emotion,  so  great  that 
I  wondered  at  it.  Such  a  scene  I  had  never  looked  upon  before, 
and  yet  it  was  in  all  its  parts  as  familiar  to  me  as  my  native 
valley.  Land  of  our  poets !  Home  of  our  fathers !  Dear  old 


THE  SQUIRE— ROOKS.  83 

mother  England !  It  would  be  strange  if  I  were  not  affected  at 
meeting  thee  at  last  face  to  face. 

I  dressed,  and  worked  my  way  through  the  dark,  crooked  stairs 
to  the  kitchen,  where,  on  the  bright  steel  fender,  I  found  my 
shoes  dry  and  polished.  I  walked  through  the  single  short  street 
of  the  hamlet.  The  houses  were  set  closely  together,  with  neat 
little  gardens  about  them.  They  were  of  every  age;  one  I 
noticed  marked  with  the  date  1630 — about  the  time  of  the  first 
settlement  in  Connecticut.  It  was  of  stone,  narrow,  with  a  steep 
roof  covered  with  very  small  slates.  The  windows  were  much 
wider  than  high,  and  filled  with  little  panes  of  glass  set  in  strips 
of  lead.  Except  in  this  and  the  materials  of  which  it  was  built, 
it  was  not  unlike  some  of  the  oldest  houses  that  we  yet  see  in  our 
first  Puritan  villages,  as  Hadley  and  Wethersfield.  At  the  other 
end  of  the  hamlet  was  another  inn — "  The  Blue  Lion,"  I  believe, 
and  a  tall  hostler  opening  the  stable  doors  was  dressed  just  as  I 
wanted  to  see  him — -jockey-cap,  long  striped  waistcoat,  breeches, 
and  boots. 

As  I  returned,  I  saw  the  farmer  who  had  been  at  the  inn  the 
night  before,  and  asked  him  to  let  me  see  his  cows.  He  said 
they  were  coming  down  the  lane,  and  if  I  went  with  him  I  should 
meet  them.  Passing  a  group  of  well-built,  neat,  low  buildings, 
he  said  they  were  the  Squire's  kennels.  They  were  intended  for 
greyhounds,  but  he  had  his  pointers  in  them  now. 

"  The  Squire's  !    But  where's  the  Squire's  house  ?  " 

"  Ton's  the  Hall,"  pointing  to  a  distant  group  of  trees,  above 
which  a  light  smoke  was  rising  straight  up  in  the  calm  air,  and  a 
number  of  large  black  birds  were  rapidly  rising  and  falling. 
"  Yon's  the  Hall ;  ye  see  the  rooks." 

"  The  rooks !     Then  those  are  rooks,  are  they  ?  " 

"  Ay,  be  they ;  rooks — do  ye  not  know  what  rooks  be  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  we  don't  have  them  in  America." 


84  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

"  No !  not  have  rooks  ?     They  be  main  good  in  a  pie,  sir." 

We  met  the  cows,  of  which  there  were  about  a  dozen,  driven 
by  a  boy  towards  the  farm-house.  They  were  large  and  in  good 
order ;  with  soft,  sleek  skin,  and,  like  every  cow  I  have  seen  in 
England,  look  as  if  they  had  just  been  polished  up  for  exhibition. 
He  could  tell  nothing  of  their  breed  except  of  one,  a  handsome 
heifer,  which  he  said  came  partly  of  Welsh  stock.  He  took  me 
across  a  field  or  two  to  look  at  a  few  cows  of  the  Squire's.  They 
were  finer  than  any  of  his,  and  seemed  to  be  grade  short-horns. 

The  cows  were  driven  into  hovels,  which  he  called  ship-pens, 
and  fastened  at  their  mangers  by  a  chain  and  ring,  sliding  on  an 
upright  post  (the  latest  fashion  with  us),  eight  of  them  in  an 
apartment,  standing  back  to  back.  Three  or  four  of  his  daughters 
came  out  to  milk — very  good  looking,  modest  young  women, 
dressed  in  long,  loose,  grey,  homespun  gowns.  They  had  those 
high  wooden  tubs  to  milk  in  that  we  see  in  the  old  pictures  of 
sentimental  milk-maids.  It  seems  constantly  like  dreaming  to 
see  so  many  of  these  things  that  we  have  only  known  before  in 
poetry  or  painting. 

The  dairy-house  and  all  the  farm  'buildings  were  of  brick,  in- 
terworked  with  beams  of  wood  and  thatched.  They  were  very 
small,  the  farm  being  only  of  fifty  acres,  and  the  hay  and  grain 
always  kept  in  stacks.  The  arrangements  for  saving  manure 
were  poor — much  the  same  as  on  any  tolerably  good  farm  with 
us — a  hollowed  yard  with  a  pool  of  liquid  on  one  side.  He 
bought  some  dung  and  bones  in  Liverpool,  but  not  much.  He 
esteemed  bones  most  highly,  and  said  they  did  immense  good 
hereabout.  They  made  a  sweeter,  stronger,  and  more  permanent 
pasture.  Where  he  had  applied  them  twelve  years  ago,  at  the 
rate  of  a  ton  to  an  acre,  he  could  see  their  effect  yet.  He  took 
me  into  an  adjoining  field  which,  he  said,  was  one  of  the  best 
pastures  in  the  village.  It  had  been  plowed  in  narrow  lands,  and 


FARM  IMPLEMENTS.  85 

the  ridges  left  high,  when  it  was  laid  down.  The  sward  was 
thicker,  better  bottomed,  than  any  I  ever  saw  in  America.  He 
sowed  about  a  bushel  of  grass  seeds  to  the  acre,  seeding  down 
with  oats.  For  cheese  pasture,  he  valued  white  clover  more  than 
any  thing  else,  and  had  judged,  from  the  taste  of  American 
cheese,  that  we  did  not  have  it.  For  meadows  to  be  mowed  for 
hay,  he  preferred  sainfoin  and  ray-grass.  He  had  lately  under- 
drained  some  of  his  lowest  land  with  good  effect.  His  soil  is 
mostly  a  stiff  clay,  resting  on  a  ledge  of  rocks. 

The  farm-carts  were  clumsy  and  heavy  (for  horses),  with  very 
large  wheels,  with  broad  tires  and  huge  hubs,  as  you  have  seen 
the  English  carts  pictured.  The  plow  was  a  very  long,  sharp, 
narrow  one,  calculated  to  plow  about  seven  inches  deep,  and  turn 
a  slice  ten  inches  wide,  with  a  single  pair  of  horses.  The  stilts, 
of  iron,  were  long  and  low,  and  the  beam,  also  of  iron,  very  high, 
with  a  goose-neck  curve.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  instrument, 
graceful  and  strong ;  but  its  appearance  of  lightness  is  deceptive, 
the  whole  being  of  iron ;  and  this,  with  its  great  length,  though 
adding  to  its  efficiency  for  nice,  accurate  work,  in  perfectly  smooth 
and  clear,  long  fields,  would  entirely  unfit  it  for  most  of  our  pur- 
poses. On  the  rocky,  irregular,  hill-side  farms  of  New  England, 
or  the  stump  lands  of  the  West,  it  would  be  perfectly  useless ; 
but  I  should  think  it  might  be  an  admirable  plow  for  our  New 
York  wheat  lands,  or  perhaps  for  the  prairies,  after  they  had 
been  once  broken. 

The  harrow  used  on  the  farm  was  also  of  iron,  frame  and  all, 
in  three  oblong  sections,  hinged  together.  These  were  about  all 
the  tools  I  saw,  and  they  were  left  in  a  slovenly  way,  lying  about 
the  farm-yard  and  in  the  road. 


86  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

Breakfast  at  the  Inn  — A  Tale  of  High  Life  — The  Garden  of  the  Inn— 
An  Old  Farm-House  —  Timber  Houses  —  Laborers'  Cottages  —  Wattles 
and  Noggin  Walls  —  A  "  Ferme  Ornee  " —  A  Lawn  Pasture  —  Copper- 
leaved  Beeches  —  Tame  Black  Cattle  —  Approach  to  Chester. 

T  RETURNED  to  my  room  in  the  inn,  and  had  written  a  page 
•*-  or  two  of  this  before  any  one  was  stirring.  Then  I  heard  the 
mistress  waking  the  servants,  and  soon  after  "  John  the  Boots " 
came  to  ray  door  to  call  me,  as  I  had  requested. 

After  prevailing  with  difficulty  upon'  the  landlady  and  her 
daughter  to  breakfast  with  us,  we  had  a  very  sociable  time  with 
them  over  the  tea  and  eggs  which  they  had  prepared  for  us. 
They  were  interested  to  hear  of  the  hard  coal  we  burned  (an- 
thracite), that  made  no  smoke,  and  of  wood  fires,  and  of  our 
peculiar  breakfast  dishes,  griddle-cakes,  and  Indian  bread.  They 
told  of  other  members  of  their  family — two  or  three  in  Australia 
— and  of  the  clergy  and  gentry  of  the  neighborhood.  They  spoke 
kindly  and  respectfully  of  the  vicar — "  a  sporting  man,  sir,  and 
fond  of  good  living,"  the  old  lady  added,  after  mentioning  his 
charity  and  benevolence.  In  speaking  of  the  gentry,  it  was  diffi- 
cult for  her  to  believe  that  we  did  not  know  the  general  history  of 
all  the  families.  We  asked  about  a  park  we  had  passed.  It  was 


A  TALE  OF  HIGH  LIFE.  87 

Park,  and  had  a  remarkable  story  to  be  told  of  it ;  but  so 

constantly  did  she  anticipate  our  knowledge,  taking  for  granted 
that  we  knew  all  that  had  occurred  until  within  a  short  time,  that 
it  was  long  before  we  could  at  all  understand  the  news  about  it. 
As  you  are  probably  equally  ignorant,  I  will  tell  you  the  tale 
connectedly,  as  we  finally  got  it. 

It  had  been  the  property  of  Sir  T ,  who  occupied  the  Hall 

in  it  until  his  death,  a  year  or  two  ago,  and  had  been  in  his  family 
many  hundred  years.  The  estate  included  several  villages — the 
whole  of  them,  every  house  and  shop,  even  the  churches — and 
was  valued  at  £800,000  ($4,000,000).  On  the  death  of  Sir  T., 
Sir  W.,  his  son,  inherited  his  title  and  estate.  But  Sir  "W.  was 
a  sporting  man,  and  had  previously  gambled  himself  in  debt  to 
Jews  in  London  £600,000.  He  came  to  the  Hall,  however,  and 
remained  there  some  time,  keeping  two  packs  of  hounds.  He 
was  a  good  landlord,  and  the  family  were  beloved.  Lady  M. 
had  established  and  maintained  a  National  (church)  School ;  and 
in  the  winter  was  in  the  habit  of  serving  out  a  large  quantity  of 
soup  every  day  to  the  poor  of  the  estate.  But  at  length  the 
bailiffs  came,  and  Sir  W.  went  to  France,  and  his  family  dispers- 
ed among  their  relatives  all  over  the  kingdom.  Lady  M.  last 
winter  had  been  very  ill,  and  nothing  ailed  her,  the  physicians 
said,  but  sorrow. 

And  now  they  were  going  to  sell  it — they  did  not  know  how 
they  could — but  they  showed  us  a  considerable  volume,  illustra- 
ted with  maps  and  lithographs,  of  "  plans  and  particulars"  of  the 

estate,  on  the  first  page  of  which  "  Messrs. had  the  honor 

to  announce  that  they  had  been  instructed  by  the  honorable  pro- 
prietor, to  sell  at  auction,  on  a  certain  six  days,  upwards  of  fifteen 
hundred  acres  of  very  fine  rich  land,  let  to  an  old  and  respectable 

tenantry,  including  the  whole  of  the  town  of ,  together  with 

several  manors  and  manorial  rights,  which  have  been  commuted 


AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


at  £500  per  annum."  They  showed  us  also  another  volume, 
containing  in  one  hundred  and  twelve  quarto  pages,  descriptions 
of  the  furniture,  plate,  library,  paintings,  wines,  etc.,  with  many 
engravings — a  curious  exposure  of  noble  housekeeping  to  our 
republican  eyes.  Seeing  that  we  were  interested  in  the  book, 
the  landlady  offered  it  to  us ;  it  was  of  no  use  to  her,  she  said, 
and  we  were  quite  welcome  to  it.  It  was  really  of  some  value, 
and  we  offered  to  pay  for  it,  but  she  would  not  sell  it. 

Before  we  left,  they  showed  us  through  the  little  garden  of  the 
inn ;  it  was  beautifully  kept,  and  every  thing  growing  strongly. 
Then,  after  buckling  on  our  knapsacks,  and  bringing  us  another 
mug  of  home-brewed,  our  kind  entertainers  took  leave  of  us  with 
as  much  good  feeling  and  cordiality  as  if  we  were  old  friends, 
who  had  been  making  them  a  short  visit,  following  us  out  into 
the  road,  with  parting  advice  about  the  roads  and  the  inns,  and 
at  last  a  warm  shaking  of  hands. 

The  country  we  walked  over  for  a  few  miles  after  leaving  the 
village,  was  similar  to  that  we  saw  yesterday — fiattish,  with  long, 
low  undulations — the  greater  part  in  pasture,  and  that  which  was 
not,  less  highly  cultivated  than  I  had  expected  to  find  much  land 
in  England,  the  stock  upon  it  almost  altogether  cows,  and  these 
always  looking  admirably  well ;  the  fields  universally  divided  by 
hedges,  which,  though  they  add  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  land- 
scape, when  you  are  in  a  position  to  look  over  it,  greatly  interrupt 
the  view,  and  always  are  ill-trimmed,  irregular,  and  apparently 
insecure.  We  met  no  one  on  the  road,  saw  very  few  habitations, 
and  only  two  men  at  work,  plowing,  for  several  miles ;  then  a 
cluster  of  cottages,  an  inn,  and  a  large  old  timber-house.  As  I 
had  been  informed  (very  wrongly)  that  these  were  getting  rare 
in  England,  and  it  was  very  peculiar  and  striking,  I  stopped  to 
sketch  it. 

Imagine  a  very  large,  old-fashioned  New  England  farm-house, 


OLD  FARM-HOUSE—COTTAGES.  89 

with  the  weather-boarding  stripped  off  and  all  the  timber  exposed. 
Fill  up  the  intervals  with  brick,  and  plaster  them  over  even  with 
the  outer  surface  of  the  beams ;  then  whitewash  this  plastered 
surface  and  blacken  the  timber,  and  you  have  the  walls  of  the 
house.  A  New  England  house,  however,  would  have  three  times 
as  many  windows.  The  roof  is  mostly  of  very  small  old  slates, 
set  with  mortar,  and  capped  (ridged)  with  thick  quarried  stones. 
It  is  repaired  with  large  new  slates  in  several  places,  and  an 
addition  that  has  been  made  since  the  main  part  was  erected, 
which  is  entirely  of  brick  in  the  walls,  with  no  timber,  is  heavily 
thatched  with  straw,  as  are  also  all  the  out-buildings. 

The  rear  of  the  farm-house  probably  contains  the  dairy,  and  is 
covered  with  thatch  to  secure  a  more  equable  temperature. 

All  the  other  buildings  in  the  hamlet  were  similarly  built — 
timber  and  whitewashed  walls,  and  thatch  roofs.  While  I  was 
sketching,  the  farmer,  a  stout  old  man,  and  the  first  we  have  seen 
in  top-boots,  came  out  and  entered  into  conversation  with  us.  He 
was  much  amused  that  I  should  think  his  house  worth  sketching, 
and  told  us  it  had  been  long  [rented]  in  his  family.  He  had  no 
idea  how  old  it  was.  He  described  the  cottages,  which  were 
certainly  very  pretty  to  look  at,  as  exceedingly  uncomfortable 
and  unhealthy — the  floors,  which  were  of  clay,  being  generally 
lower  than  the  road  and  the  surrounding  land,  and  often  wet,  and 
always  damp,  while  the  roofs  and  walls  were  old  and  leaky,  and 
full  of  vermin.  The  walls  of  these  cottages  are  all  made  by  in- 
terlacing twigs  (called  wattles)  between  the  timbers,  and  then 
plashing  these  with  mud  (noggin),  inside  and  out,  one  layer  over 
another  as  they  dried,  until  it  is  as  thick  as  is  desired ;  then  the 
surface  is  made  smooth  with  a  trowel,  and  whitewashed. 

A  few  miles  further  on  we  came  to  a  large,  park-like  pasture, 
bounded  by  a  neatly  trimmed  hedge,  and  entered  by  a  simple 
gate,  from  which  a  private  road  ran  curving  among  a  few  clumps 


90  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

of  trees  to  a  mansion  about  a  furlong  distant.  We  entered,  and 
rested  ourselves  awhile  at  the  foot  of  some  large  oaks.  The  house 
was  nearly  hidden  among  trees,  and  these,  seen  across  the  clear 
grass  land,  formed,  we  thought,  the  finest  mass  of  foliage  we  had 
ever  seen.  A  peculiar  character  was  given  it  by  one  or  two 
purple-leaved  beeches — tall  trees,  thickly  branched  from  the  very 
ground.  The  cattle  in  this  pasture-lawn  were  small  and  black, 
brisk  and  wild-looking,  but  so  tame  in  reality  that,  as  we  lay 
under  the  tree,  they  came  up  and  licked  our  hands  like  dogs. 
The  whole  picture  completely  realized  Willis's  ideal-sketch,  "The 
Cottage  Insoucieuse" 

After  this  the  country  was  more  elevated  and  broken,  and  the 
walk  delightful.  We  saw  many  beautiful  things,  but  have  seen 
so  many,  more  interesting,  since,  that  I  hardly  remember  them. 
The  road  was  more  traveled.  We  met  a  stage-coach,  with  no 
inside  passengers,  but  the  top  overloaded,  and  a  stylish  carriage- 
and-four,  the  near  wheeler  and  leader  ridden  by  postillions  in 
bright  livery,  and  within  an  old  gentleman,  wearing  a  velvet  cap, 
and  a  young  lady  under  a  blue  hood.  The  fields,  too,  were  more 
tilled ;  and  one  of  fifty  acres,  which  was  ridged  for  some  root  crop, 
was  the  most  thoroughly  cultivated  piece  of  merely  farming 
ground  I  ever  saw. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  we  came  to  the  top  of  a 
higher  hill  than  we  had  before  crossed,  from  which  we  looked 
down  upon  a  beautiful  rich  valley,  bounded  on  the  side  opposite 
us  by  blue  billowy  hills.  In  the  midst  of  it  was  the  smoke  and 
chimneys  and  steeples  of  a  town.  One  square,  heavy  brown 
tower  was  conspicuous  over  the  rest,  and  we  recognized  our  first 
cathedral. 

As  we  approached  the  town,  the  road  became  a  crooked  paved 
street,  lined  with  curious  small  houses,  between  which  we  passed, 
stopping  often  to  admire  some  singular  gable,  or  porch,  or  gro- 


APPROACH  TO  CHESTER.  91 

tesque  carving,  until  it  was  spanned  by  a  handsome  brown  stone 
arch,  not  the  viaduct  of  a  railroad,  as  at  first  seemed  likely,  but 
one  of  the  four  gateways  of  the  city.  Passing  under  it,  we  found 
on  the  inner  side  a  flight  of  broad  stairs  leading  on  to  the  city 
wall,  which  we  ascended.  At  the  top,  on  the  inside  of  the  wall, 
was  a  printer's  shop,  in  which  guide-books  were  offered  for  sale. 
Entering  this  we  were  received  by  an  obliging  young  man,  who 
left  the  press  to  give  us  chairs,  and  with  whom  we  had  an  inter- 
esting conversation  about  the  town  and  about  his  trade.  Printers' 
wages,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  were  about  one  quarter  more  in  New 
York  than  in  Chester.  After  purchasing  a  guide-book  and  a  few 
prints  of  him,  we  accepted  his  invitation  to  leave  our  knapsacks 
in  his  shop,  and  take  a  walk  on  the  walls  before  entering  the 
town. 


92  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XTTT. 

Chester  without— A  Walk  on  the  Walls— Antiquities— Striking  Contrasts. 

Chester,  June  2d. 

Y  journal  is  behindhand  several  days.  Meantime,  I  have 
seen  so  much,  that  if  I  had  a  week  of  leisure  I  should 
despair  of  giving  you  a  good  idea  of  this  strange  place.  But  that 
you  may  understand  a  little  how  greatly  we  are  interested,  I  will 
mention  some  of  the  objects  that  we  have  seen,  and  are  seeing. 
Use  your  imagination  well  to  fill  up  the  hints,  rather  than  descrip- 
tions, of  these  that  I  shall  give  you.  You  need  not  fear  that, 
when  you  come  here,  the  reality  will  disappoint  you. 

We  are  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  a  few  feet  from  the  archway 
through  which  we  entered  the  town.  Look  down  now  on  the 
outside.  The  road,  just  before  it  enters  the  gate,  crosses,  by  a 
bridge,  a  deep  ravine.  In  it,  some  seventy  feet  below  us,  you  see 
the  dark  water,  perhaps  of  old  the  fosse,  but  now  a  modern  com- 
mercial canal.  A  long,  narrow  boat,  much  narrower  than  our 
canal-boats,  laden  with  coals,  is  coming  from  under  the  bridge ;  a 
woman  is  steering  it;  and  on  the  cabin,  in  large  red  letters,  you 
see  her  name,  "  Margaret  Francis,"  and  the  name  of  the  boat — • 
"  Telegraph."  The  arch  was  turned  by  a  man  now  living,  but 


A   WALK  ABOUT  CHESTER.  93 

that  course  of  stones — the  dark  ones  between  the  ivy  and  the 
abutment — was  laid  by  a  Roman  mason,  when  Rome  was  mistress 
of  the  world. 

Walk  on.  The  wall  is  five  feet  wide  on  the  top,  with  a  para- 
pet of  stone  on  the  outside,  and  an  iron  rail  within.  Don't  fear, 
though  it  is  so  far  and  deep  to  the  canal,  and  the  stone  looks  so 
time-worn  and  crumbling ;  it  is  firm  with  true  Roman  cement,  the 
blood  of  brave  men.  Here  it  is  strengthened  by  a  heavy  tower, 
now  somewhat  dilapidated.  Look  up,  and  you  see  upon  it  the 
rude  carving  of  a  Phrenix;  under  it,  on  an  old  tablet,  these 
words : 

"  ON  THIS  TOWER  STOOD   CHARLES  THE  FIRST,   AND   SAW  HIS   ARMY   DEFEATED." 

Within  the  tower  is  the  stall  of  a  newsman.  Buy  the  Times, 
which  has  come  some  hundred  miles  since  morning,  with  the  in- 
formation that  yesterday  the  president  of  a  French  Peace  Society 
was  shot  in  a  duel.  (A  fact.) 

Pass  on.  On  one  side  of  us  are  tall  chimneys,  built  last  year, 
through  which,  from  fierce  forge-fires,  ascend  black  smoke  and 
incense  of  bitumen  to  the  glory  of  mammon.  Close  on  the  other 
side  stands  a  venerable  cathedral,  built  by  pious  labor  of  devout 
men,  centuries  dead,  to  the  laud  and  service  of  their  God.  We 
look  into  the  burying-ground,  and  on  the  old  gravestones  observe 
many  familiar  New  England  names. 

Again,  narrow  brick  houses  are  built  close  up  to  the  wall,  and, 
now,  on  both  sides ;  the  wall,  which  you  can  stride  across,  being 
their  only  street  or  way  of  access.  Here,  again,  it  crosses  another 
broad  road,  and  we  are  over  another  entrance  to  the  city — the 
"  New  Gate ;"  it  is  not  quite  a  century  old.  We  look  from  it  into 
a  market-place.  Narrow,  steep-gabled  houses,  with  their  second 
story  threatening  the  sidewalks,  surround  it.  But  the  market- 
building  is  modern.  See !  the  sparrow  lighting  on  the  iron  roof 


94  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

burns  her  feet  and  flies  hastily  over  to  the  heavy,  old  brown 
thatch,  where  the  little  dormers  stick  out  so  clumsily  cosy. 

Odd-looking  vehicles  and  oddly-dressed  people  are  passing  in 
the  street  below  us :  a  woman  with  a  jacket,  driving  two  stout 
horses  in  one  of  those  heavy  farm-carts ;  an  omnibus,  with  the 
sign  of  "  The  Green  Dragon,"  very  broad,  and  carrying  many 
passengers  on  the  top ;  the  driver,  smartly-dressed,  tips  his  whip 
with  a  knowing  nod  to  a  pretty  Welsh  girl,  who  is  carrying  a  tub 
upon  her  head.  There  are  scores  of  such  damsels,  neat  as  possi- 
ble, with  dark  eyes,  and  glossy  hair  half  covered  by  white  caps, 
and  fine,  plump  forms,  in  short  striped  petticoats  and  hob-nailed 
shoes.  There  goes  one,  straight  as  a  gun-barrel,  with  a  great  jar 
of  milk  upon  her  head.  And  here  is  a  little  donkey,  with  cans  of 
milk  slung  on  each  side  of  him,  and  behind  them,  so  you  cannot 
see  why  he  does  not  slip  off  over  his  tail,  is  a  great  brute,  with 
two  legs  in  knee-breeches  and  blue  stockings,  bent  up  so  as  to  be 
clear  of  the  ground,  striking  him  with  a  stout  stick  across  his 
long,  expressive  ears.  A  sooty-faced  boy,  with  a  Kilmarnock 
bonnet  on  his  head,  carrying  pewter  pots,  coming  towards  us, 
jumps  suddenly  one  side,  and,  ha !  out  from  under  us,  at  a  rat- 
tling pace,  comes  a  beautiful  sorrel  mare,  with  a  handsome,  tall, 
slightly-made  young  man  in  undress  military  uniform;  close 
behind,  and  not  badly  mounted  either,  follow  two  others — one 
also  in  uniform,  with  a  scarlet  cap  and  a  bright  bugle  swinging 
at  his  side ;  the  other  a  groom  in  livery,  neat  as  a  pin ;  odd  again, 
to  American  eyes,  those  leather  breeches  and  bright  top-boots. 
Lord  Grosvenor,  going  to  review  the  Yeomanry,  says  the  printer. 
His  grandfather  built  this  gate  and  presented  it  to  the  corpora- 
tion ;  you  may  see  his  arms  on  the  key-stone.  But  we  must 
go  on. 

On  the  left  an  old  tower,  and  under  it  the  ragged  outline  and 
darker  color  of  still  older  masonry.  A  swallow  has  just  found  a 


ANTIQUITIES.  95 


cranny  big  enough  wherein  to  build  her  nest,  that  Father  Time 
has  been  chiseling  at  eight  hundred  years.  Eight  hundred? 
Yes ;  for  it  was  rebuilt  then.  You  can  see  some  of  the  real  old 
wall  at  the  other  end — X  9,  not  that  round  Saxon  arch,  but  beyond 
the  trees — a  low  wall  with  a  heavy  clothing  of  ivy.  The  steam- 
boat is  just  coming  out  from  behind  it  now.  In  the  year  973, 
King  Edgar  landed  at  this  church  from  a  boat,  in  which  he  had 
been  rowed  by  eight  conquered  kings.  A  smoky  old  tub  is  that 
steamboat,  but  doubtless  a  faster  and  more  commodious  craft  than 
Edgar's  eight  king-power  packet. 

We  cross  another  gateway,  and  pass  a  big  mill.  The  dam  was 
built — I  don't  know  when.  But  they  say  it  had  a  bad  name  with 
the  Puritans,  who  undertook  to  expunge  it,  but  failed,  because, 
like  a  duck,  it  kept  under  a  high  flood  of  water  until  the  Cava- 
liers, making  a  dash  to  save  it,  spiked  their  guns. 

Our  path  turns  suddenly,  and  runs  along  the  face  of  a  stone 
wall,  supported  by  brackets  high  above  the  water  of  the  river, 
but  some  distance  below  the  parapets — parapets  of  a  Castle. 
Soon  we  pass  a  red-coated  sentry,  and  now  you  see  a  tower 
that  looks  older  than  the  rest.  The  battle-axes  of  William 
the  Conqueror  once  clanged  where  that  fellow  now  lounges 
with  a  cigar.  Beyond,  on  the  esplanade,  were  wont  to  assemble 
the  feudal  armies  of  the  Earls  of  Chester,  whose  title  is  now 
borne  by  the  German  Prince's  eldest  son.  Quite  a  different  ap- 
pearance they  must  have  made  from  this  regiment  of  Irishmen 
in  cloth  jackets  and  leather  helmets. 

Stop  one  moment  to  look  at  the  bridge ;  step  back  to  the  angle 
— there  you  see  it — half-a-dozen  arches  of  different  forms  and 
shades  of  color,  not  particularly  handsome,  but  worth  noticing. 
The  blackest  of  the  arches  was  turned  half  a  century  before 
Jamestown  was  founded — that  is,  it  was  then  rebuilt.  The  orig- 
inal bridge,  from  which  the  stones  for  it  were  taken,  was  built  by 


96  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Ethcfleda.  Who  was  she?  She  was  "the  queen"  here  a  thou- 
sand years  ago,  I  believe ;  you'll  be  shown  her  great-grandmother's 
cradle  somewhere  about  town  probably. 

Just  above  is  another  bridge.  What  a  fine  arch.  Yes ;  the 
widest  in  the  world,  it  is  said.  That  was  not  built  by  a  queen ; 
but  a  little  girl  was  the  first  to  cross  it,  who  afterwards  "  devel- 
oped" into  "her  most  gracious  Majesty,  Victoria,  whom  God  long 
preserve,"  as  the  loyal  guide-book  hath  it. 

" .  .  .  .     Poor  fellow !  he  is  very  lame." 
"  Probably  an  impostor,  sir ;  don't  encourage  him." 
"  He  asks  a  penny  to  keep  him  from  starving ;  his  son  has  not 
been  able  to  get  work  lately,  or  he  would  not  let  him  beg." 

"  There's  enough  work  for  him  if  he  really  wants  it ;  it's  what 
they  all  say.  Give  a  ha'penny,  then,  and  be  rid  of  him.  Now,  look 
over  there,  between  the  trees,  and  see  the  entrance  to  the  Marquis 
of  Westminster's  Park." — A  great,  fresh  pile  of  bombastic  towers 
and  battlements  to  flank  a  gate  and  protect  the  woman  who  opens 
it  from — rain  and  frost.  It  is  but  recently  finished,  and  costs, 
says  the  printer,  £10,000. 

What  says  the  beggar  ?  Free  trade  and  the  Irish  have  cut 
down  wages,  since  he  used  to  work  on  the  farms,  from  five  shil- 
lings to  eighteen  pence. 

He  reasserts  it.  He  has  stood  himself  at  Chester  Cross  on  the 
market  day,  and  refused  to  work  for  four-and-sixpence,  and  all 
the  beer  he  could  drink.  It  may  be  true — the  printer  tells  us ; 
in  the  old  Bonaparte  years,  in  harvest  time,  it  was  not  unlikely 
to  have  been  so.  With  wheat  at  a  guinea  a  bushel,  the  farmers 
did  not  have  the  worst  of  it.  Soldiers  can't  reap,  but  they  must 
eat.  The  government  borrowed  money  to  give  the  farmers  for 
supporting  the  war,  and  now  the  farmers  are  paying  the  debt. 


"  THE  ROODEE"  —  RUINS.  97 

Hark !  horns  and  kettle-drums !  It  is  the  band  of  the  Yeo- 
mamy ;  we  shall  see  them  directly There !  Five  squad- 
rons of  mounted  men  trotting  over  a  broad  green  meadow  below 
us.  Well  mounted  they  seem  to  be,  and  well  seated  too.  Fox 
hunting  makes  good  cavalry.  Doubtless  many  of  those  fellows 
have  been  after  the  hounds. 

Possibly.  But  never  one  of  them  charged  a  buffalo  herd,  I'll 
be  bound. 

This  green  plain — a  sort  of  public  lawn  in  front  of  the  town — 
is  about  twice  as  large  as  Boston  Common,  and  is  called  "  The 
Roodee."  It  is  free  from  trees,  nothing  but  a  handsome  meadow, 
and  the  Chester  race-course  runs  round  it.  On  this  course,  by 
the  way,  the  greatest  number  of  horses  ever  engaged  in  a  single 
match  have  been  run.  In  1848,  the  entries  were  one  hundred 
and  fifty-six,  of  which  one  hundred  and  six  accepted. 

Right  below  us,  on  the  meadow,  there  is  pitched  a  marquee. 
It  belongs  to  a  cricket  club.  I  only  want  you  to  notice  the  beau- 
tiful green  sward  of  their  playing  ground.  It  is  shaven  so  clean 
and  close.  You  see  men  sweeping  it  with  hair-brooms. 

In  this  garden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  there  was  once  a 
nunnery.  A  subterranean  passage  exists,  by  which,  if  you  could 
keep  a  candle  burning,  you  might  pass  from  it  under  the  city  back 
to  the  cathedral. 

....  Are  you  tired  of  ruins  ?  Here  is  one  more  that  may 
rouse  your  Puritan  blood :  a  heavy  tower  built  into  the  wall, 
connected  with  a  larger  one  at  some  distance  outside.  How  old 
they  look !  No  paintings  and  no  descriptions  had  ever  conveyed 
to  me  the  effect  of  age  upon  the  stone  itself  of  these  very  old 
structures.  How  stern !  how  venerable !  how  silent — yet  telling 
what  long  stories !  We  will  not  ask  for  the  oldest  of  them,  but 
7 


98  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

— you  see  there,  where  the  battlements  are  broken  down  in  one 
place — that  breach  was  made  by  a  ball  thrown  from  the  hill 
yonder ;  and  the  cannon  that  sent  it  was  aimed  by  OLIVER 
CROMWELL  himself. 

How  beautiful,  how  indescribably  beautiful,  are  those  glossy 
tresses  of  ivy,  falling  over  the  blackened  ramparts,  like  the  curls 
of  a  child  asleep  on  its  grandfather's  shoulder.  —  Whew  !  They 
have  pierced  the  wall  right  under  us,  and  here  goes  an  express 
train  fifty  miles  an  hour,  from  Ireland  to  London,  by  way  of 
Holy  head.  The  Roman  masonry,  that  resisted  the  Roundhead 
batteries,  has  surrendered  to  the  engines  of  peace. 

But,  as  we  move  on,  higher  marks  of  civilization  are  pointed 
out  to  us.  Here,  close  to  the  wall,  and  in  the  shadow  of  the  old 
tower,  is  a  public  bath  and  wash-house.  A  little  back  is  a  hos- 
pital, and  near  it  a  house  of  refuge.  Across  the  valley  is  a 
gloomy  looking  workhouse,  and  in  another  direction  a  much  more 
cheering  institution,  beautifully  placed  on  a  hill,  among  fine,  dark, 
evergreen  trees,  through  which  you  can  see  the  bright  sunshine 
and  smile  of  God  falling  upon  it.  It  is  the  Training  College — a 
normal  school,  for  preparing  teachers  for  the  church  schools  of 
the  diocese.  And  here,  on  the  left,  as  we  approach  the  north 
gate  again,  is  an  old  charity  school-house,  the  Blue-coat  Hospital. 
The  boys  at  play  are  all  young  George  Washingtons,  dressed  in 
long-skirted  blue  coats,  and  breeches,  and  stockings. 

....  So  here  we  are,  back  at  the  good-natured  printer's 
office,  having  been  a  circuit  of  three  miles  on  the  walls  of  the 
city.  Its  population  is  twenty-five  thousand,  and  as  you  have 
observed  that  nearly  all  the  houses  are  low,  you  cannot  suppose 
that  much  room  is  taken  up  by  streets  and  unoccupied  grounds, 
where  that  number  is  accommodated  in  such  limited  space,  you 


OBSERVATIONS.  99 


will  be  ready  to  explore  the  interior  with  curiosity.  If  your  taste 
for  the  quaint  and  picturesque  is  at  all  like  mine,  you  will  be  in 
no  danger  of  disappointment. 


100  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Chester  within  —  Peculiarities  of  Building  —  The  Rows  —  A  Sea  Captain 

—  Romancing  —  An  Old   Inn  —  Old  English  Town  Houses  —  Timber 
Houses  —  Claiming  an  Inheritance  —  A  Cook  Shop  —  One  of  the  Alleys 

—  Breaking  into  the  Cathedral  —  Expulsion  —  The  Curfew. 

rPHE  four  gates  of  the  city  are  opposite,  and  about  equally 
•  distant  from  each  other.  Four  streets  run  from  them,  meet- 
ing in  the  centre  and  dividing  it  it  into  four  quarters.  These 
principal  streets  vary  in  width  from  one  to  three  rods,  and  besides 
them  there  are  only  a  few  narrow  alleys,  through  which  carts  can 
pass.  But  the  whole  city  is  honeycombed  with  by-ways,  varying 
from  two  to  five  feet  in  width ;  sometimes  open  above,  and  some- 
times built  over ;  crooked  and  intricate,  and,  if  he  cares  where 
they  lead  him  to,  most  puzzling  to  a  stranger.  Besides  these 
courts,  alleys,  and  foot-paths,  there  is  another  highway  peculiarity 
in  Chester,  which  it  will  be  difficult  to  describe ;  but  — 

Imagine  you  have  entered  the  gate  with  us,  after  the  walk  on 
the  wall.  The  second  story  of  most  the  old  houses  is  thrown  for- 
ward, as  you  have  seen  it  in  the  "  old  settlers'  "  houses  at  home. 
Sometimes  it  projects  several  feet,  and  is  supported  by  posts  in 
the  sidewalk.  Soon  this  becomes  a  frequent,  and  then  a  continu- 
ous arrangement ;  the  posts  are  generally  of  stone,  forming  an 


PECULIARITIES  OF  BUILDINGS.  101 

arcade,  and  you  walk  behind  them  in  the  shade.  Sometimes, 
instead  of  posts,  a  solid  wall  supports  the  upper  house.  You 
observe,  as  would  be  likely  in  an  old  city,  that  the  surface  is 
irregular ;  we  are  ascending  a  slight  elevation.  Notwithstanding 
the  old  structure  overhead,  and  the  well-worn,  thick,  old  flagging 
under  foot,  we  notice  that  the  shop  fronts  are  finished  with  plate- 
glass,  and  all  the  brilliancy  of  the  latest  commercial  taste  and  art. 
Turning,  to  make  the  contrast  more  striking,  by  looking  at  the 
little  windows  and  rude  carvings  of  the  houses  opposite,  we  see  a 
bannister  or  hand-rail  separates  the  side-walk  from  the  carriage- 
way, and  are  surprised,  on  stepping  out  to  it,  to  find  that  the  street 
is  some  ten  feet  below  us.  We  are  evidently  in  the  second  story 
of  the  houses.  Finding  steps  leading  downwards,  we  descend 
into  the  street  and  discover  another  tier  of  shops,  on  the  roofs  of 
which  we  have  been  walking. 

Going  on,  we  shortly  come  to  where  the  two  streets  meet  in 
the  centre  of  the  town.  Passing  over  the  ground  where  the 
"cross  "and  the  pillory,  and  other  institutions  of  religion  and 
justice  and  merry-making  formerly  stood,  we  ascend  steps,  and 
are  again  in  one  of  those  singular  walks  called  by  the  inhabitants 
"  The  Rows."  There  are  no  more  stylish  shop  fronta ;  but  dark 
doorways  and  old  windows  again,  and  on  almost  every  door-post 
little  black  and  red  checkers,  which  hieroglyphics,  if  you  are  not 
sufficiently  versed  in  Falstaffian  lore  to  understand,  you  can  find 
rendered  in  plain  black  and  white  queen's  English  on  the  beam 
overhead — "  Licensed  to  sell  beer,"  etc.  Generally  there  will  be 
an  additional  sign,  naming  the  inn  or  tavern,  always  in  letters, 
and  almost  never  in  portraiture.  I  remember  "  The  Crown  and 
Castle,"  "  The  Crown  and  Anchor,"  "  The  Castle  and  Falcon," 
"The  King's  Head,"  "The  Black  Bear,"  "The  Blue  Boar," 
"The  Pied  Bull,"  "The  Green  Dragon,"  "The  White  Lion," 


102  AN  AMERICAS'  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

"  The  Sun  and  Apple  Tree,"  «  The  Colliers'  Arms,"  "  The  Arms 
of  Man,"  "The  Malt  Shovel,"  etc.,  etc. 

Instead  of  columns  and  a  hand-rail,  or  a  dead  wall  on  the  street 
side  of  the  row,  it  is  now  and  then  contracted  by  a  room,  which 
is  sometimes  occupied  by  a  shop,  and  sometimes  seems  to  be  used 
as  a  vestibule  and  staircase  to  apartments  overhead,  for  we  see  a 
brass  plate  with  the  resident's  name,  and  a  bell-pull,  at  the  door. 

On  the  inner  side  there  are  frequent  entrances  to  the  narrow 
passages  that  I  mentioned,  which  may  be  long  substitutes  for 
streets,  communicating,  after  a  deal  of  turning  and  splitting  into 
branches,  with  some  distant  alley  or  churchyard,  with  the  front 
doors  of  wealthy  citizens'  houses  opening  upon  them ;  or  they  may 
be  merely  alleys  between  two  tenements  leading  to  a  common  yard 
in  the  rear ;  or  again,  if  you  turn  into  one,  it  may  turn  out  to  be 
a  private  hall,  and  after  one  or  two  short  turns,  end  in  a  kitchen. 
Never  mind — don't  retreat ;  put  on  a  bold  face,  take  a  seat  by 
the  fire  as  if  you  were  at  home,  and  call  for  a  mug  of  beer.  Ten 
to  one  it  will  be  all  right.  Almost  every  other  housekeeper  seems 
to  be  a  licensed  taverner. 

We  had  great  sport  while  nominally  engaged  in  finding  lodg- 
ings to  suit  us.  Many  of  the  places  at  which  we  applied  were 
merely  houses  of  refreshment,  and  had  no  spare  bed-rooms.  In 
one  of  these,  "  The  Boot  Inn,"  we  found  an  old  sea-captain,  who, 
some  twenty  years  ago,  had  traded  to  New  York,  and  enjoyed 
talking  and  making  inquiries  about  persons  he  had  met  and 
places  he  had  visited.  Fortunately  we  knew  some  of  them,  and 
so  were  constrained  to  sit  down  to  bread  and  cheese  and  beer, 
and  listen  to  some  tough  yarns  of  Yellow  Jack  and  Barbary 
pirates.  At  one  end  of  the  kitchen  was  a  table  with  benches  on 
three  sides  of  it,  and  a  great  arm-chair  on  the  other.  Over  the 
chair  hung  a  union-jack,  and  before  it  on  the  table  was  a  strongly 
bound  book,  which  proved  to  be  "  The  Record  of  the  Boot  Inn 


AN  OLD  INN.  103 


Birthday  Club."  The  bond  entered  into  by  each  member  on 
entering  this  association  was,  that  he  should  treat  the  club  to 
plenty  of  good  malt  liquor  on  his  every  future  birthday.  There 
was  a  constitution  and  many  by-laws,  the  penalty  for  breaking 
which  was  always  to  be  paid  in  "  beer  for  the  club." 

At  other  inns  we  would  be  shown,  by  delightfully  steep,  nar- 
row, crooked,  and  every  way  possible  inconvenient  stairways,  up 
through  low  dark  spaces  of  inclined  plane,  into  long,  steep-roofed, 
pigeon-house  like  rooms,  having  an  air  as  gloomy  and  mysterious 
as  it  was  hot  and  close.  Then,  upon  our  declining  to  avail  our- 
selves of  such  romantic  and  typhous  accommodations,  instead  of 
being  reconducted  down  by  the  tortuous  path  of  our  ascent,  we 
would  be  shown,  through  a  back  door  in  the  third  story,  out  upon 
a  passage  that  seemed  to  be  also  used  as  a  public  street  (footway), 
doors  opening  from  it,  which  were  evidently  entrances  to  residen- 
ces in  the  rear. 

Finally  we  were  suited ;  and  now  I  am  writing  on  an  old  oak 
table,  with  spiral  legs,  sitting  in  an  old  oak  chair,  with  an  Eliza- 
bethan carved  back,  my  feet  on  an  old  oak  floor  (rather  wavy), 
stout  old  oak  beams  over  my  head,  and  low  walls  of  old  oak  wain- 
scot all  around  me.  Resting  on  an  old  oak  bench  by  the  window, 
is  a  young  man  with  a  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  slouched  half  over 
his  face.  Across  the  street,  so  near  we  might  jump  into  it  if  we 
were  attacked  from  the  rear,  is  a  house  with  the  most  grotesque- 
ly-carved and  acutely-pointed  gable  possible  to  be  believed  real, 
and  not  a  bit  of  scene  painting,  with  the  date,  "1539,"  cut  in 
awkward  figures  over  the  cockloft  window,  high  in  the  apex. 
For  fifteen  minutes  there  has  been  a  regular  " clink,  clink"  dead- 
ening all  other  sounds  but  the  clash  of  sabres  against  spurs,  and 
distant  bugle-calls,  as  a  body  of  horsemen  are  passing  in  compact 
columns  through  the  narrow  street,  from  the  castle,  out  by  the 
north  gate,  towards  Rowton  Moor. 


104  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  LV  EXGLAXD. 

To  be  sure,  it  is  a  California  and  not  a  Cavalier  sombrero  that 
shades  my  friend,  and  the  men  of  war  outside  are  gentle  yeomen, 
carrying  percussion-lock  carbines  indeed,  but  who  have  fought 
for  nothing  so  valiantly  as  for  the  corn  laws.  But  when  shall  I 
again  get  as  near  as  this  to  Prince  Charlie  or  the  Ironsides  ? 
At  least,  there  will  be  no  prompter's  bell  summoning  carpenters 
to  slide  off  the  picture.  That  1539  over  the  way  is  TRUE  ;  I 
can  see  the  sun  shine  into  the  figures.  Away  with  1850 ! 
What,  lio!  a  cup  of  sack! 

The  house  is  full  of  most  unexplainable  passages  and  unac- 
countable recesses,  of  great  low  rooms  and  little  high  rooms,  with 
ceilings  in  various  angles  to  the  walls,  and  the  floor  of  every  one 
at  a  different  elevation  from  every  other,  so  that  from  the  same 
landing  you  step  up  into  one  and  down  into  another,  and  so  on. 
Back  of  a  little  kitchen  and  big  pantry,  down  stairs,  we  have  an- 
other parlor.  In  it  is  a  grand  old  chimney,  and  opposite  the 
fireplace  a  window,  the  only  one  in  the  room.  It  is  but  three 
feet  high,  but,  except  the  room  occupied  by  a  glass  buffet  in  one 
corner  and  a  turned-up  round-table  in  the  other,  reaches  from 
wall  to  wall.  To  look  out  of  it,  you  step  on  to  a  platform,  about 
four  feet  broad,  in  front  of  it,  and  on  this  is  an  old,  long,  high- 
backed  settee. 

As  I  lay  in  bed  last  night,  I  counted  against  the  moon  seventy- 
five  panes  of  glass  in  the  single  window  of  our  sleeping  apart- 
ment. The  largest  of  them  was  four  by  three,  and  the  smallest 
three  by  one  inches.  They  are  set  in  lead  sashes,  and  the  outer 
frame  is  of  iron,  opening  on  hinges. 

There  are  none  but  timber  houses  all  about  us ;  the  walls 
white  or  yellow,  and  the  timbers  black.  The  roofs  are  often  as 
steep  as  forty-five  degrees  with  the  horizon,  and  the  gables  always 
front  on  the  street  If  the  house  is  large  there  will  be  several 
gables,  and  each  successive  story  juts  out,  overhanging  the  face 


OLD  CARVINGS  -  FATHER-LAND.  105 

of  that  below.  There  is  no  finical  vergeboard,  or  flimsy  "  dra- 
pery" in  the  gable,  but  the  outermost  rafter  (a  stout  beam  that 
you  cannot  fear  will  warp  off  or  blow  away)  is  boldly  projected, 
and  your  attention  perhaps  invited  to  it  by  carving.  Porches, 
bow-windows,  dormers,  galleries  (in  the  rows),  and  all  the  promi- 
nent features  of  the  building,  are  generally  more  or  less  rudely 
carved.  One  house  near  us  is  completely  covered  with  figures. 
C.  says  they  represent  Bible  scenes.  There  is  one  compartment 
which  he  understands  to  be  a  tableau  of  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac, 
Abraham  being  represented,  according  to  his  exegesis,  by  a 
bearded  figure,  dressed  in  a  long  flapped  waistcoat  and  knee- 
breeches. 

Another  house  has  these  words  cut  in  the  principal  horizontal 
beam:  "God's  Providence  is  mine  Inheritance — 1652."  It  is 
said  the  family  residing  in  it  was  the  only  one  in  the  city  that 
entirely  escaped  the  great  plague  of  that  year.  > 

We  cannot  keep  still,  but  run  about  with  boyish  excitement. 
We  feel  indeed  like  children  that  have  come  back  to  visit  the 
paternal  house,  and  who  are  rummaging  about  in  the  garret 
among  their  father's  playthings,  ever  and  anon  shouting,  "  See 
what  I've  found !  see  what  I've  found !  "  If  we  had  been  brought 
here  blindfolded  from  America,  and  were  now,  after  two  days' 
visit,  sent  back  again,  we  should  feel  well  repaid  for  the  long  sea 
passage.  If  we  were  to  stay  here  a  month,  we  should  scarcely 
enjoy  less  than  we  now  do,  rambling  about  among  these  relics  of 
our  old  England.* 

*  Some  months  later  than  thig  we  were  at  a  supper  party,  after  some  old  English  ballads 
and  songs  had  been  sung,  when  one  of  the  company  apologized  for  it,  saying,  "  We  forget 
our  American  friends.  It  is  selfish  in  us  to  sing  only  these  national  songs,  in  which  we 
are  peculiarly  interested.  Have  you  nothing  American,  now  ?"  "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  I 
replied,  "  those  are  our  national  songs  as  much  as  yours.  You  forget  that  we  are  also 
countrymen  of  Shakspeare,  and  Robin  Hood,  and  Richard  the  Lion-hearted.  Our  moth- 
ers danced  with  your  fathers  under  that  same  '  green-wood,'  and  around  the  '  May -polo.' 


106  Ay  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Going  into  an  eating-house,  the  first  afternoon  we  were  in 
Chester,  we  were  shown  through  three  apartments  into  a  kitchen, 
and  from  that  into  a  long,  narrow,  irregularly-shaped  room,  with 
one  little  window  high  above  our  heads,  and  twenty-seven  old 
wood  engravings  in  frames  about  the  walls.  When  we  were 
re.idy  to  leave,  a  back  door  was  opened,  and  we  were  told  that 
the  first  opening  to  the  left  would  bring  us  to  the  street.  We 
found  ourselves  in  one  of  the  narrow  covered  ways,  and  instead 
of  turning  off  to  the  street  as  directed,  kept  on  in  it,  to  go  where  it 
should  happen  to  lead.  Sometimes  wide,  sometimes  narrow, 
running  first,  as  it  appeared,  between  a  man's  kitchen  and  his 
dining-room;  then  into  a  dust-yard;  then  suddenly  narrowed, 
and  turned  one  side  by  a  stable ;  then  opening  into  a  yard,  across 
which  a  woman  over  a  wash-tub  was  scolding  her  husband — sit- 
ting with  a  baby  and  smoking  at  a  window ;  then  through  a 
blacksmith's  shop  into  a  dark,  crooked  passage,  like  the  gallery 
of  a  mine,  at  the  other  end  of  which  we  found  ourselves  on  a 
paved  street  not  far  from  the  cathedral. 

We  entered  the  burying-ground,  and  seeing  that  a  small  door, 
that  is  cut  in  the  large  door  of  the  cathedral,  was  ajar,  pushed  it 
open  and  went  in.  It  was  dark,  silent,  and  chill.  We  felt 
strangely  as  we  groped  our  way  over  the  unobstructed  stone  floor, 
and  could  make  nothing  of  it  until,  our  eyes  becoming  adapted  to 
the  dimness,  we  discovered  gilded  organ-pipes,  and  were  going 
towards  them,  when  a  small  door  in  front  of  us  was  opened,  and 
a  man  came  out,  saying  impatiently,  "  Who  are  you  ?  what  do 
you  want  ?  Take  off  your  hats." 

Our  fathers  fought  for  their  right  in  this  land  against  Turk.  Frenchman,  Spaniard,  and 
Pretender.  We  have  as  much  pride  in  Old  England,  gentlemen,  as  any  of  you.  We 
claim  the  right  to  make  ourselves  at  home  on  that  ground  with  you.''  "  You  are  right ; 
you  are  welcome.  Give  us  your  hand.'-  And  the  whole  table  rose,  shaking  our  hands 
with  an  enthusiasm  that  only  patriotic  pride  will  excuse  among  Englishmen. 


THE  CURFEW  SELL.  107 


"  We  are  strangers,  looking  at  the  cathedral." 

"  Can't  see  it,  now ;  can't  see  it,  now.  Service  every  day  at 
four  and  ten  o'clock." 

As  we  were  going  out,  a  great  bell  began  to  toll.  "  What  is 
that,  sir  ?  "  said  I. 

"What?" 

"  That  bell  tolling — what  is  it  for  ?  " 

"  Why,  that's  the  cuffew,"  and  he  closed  and  bolted  the  door, 
while  we  stood  still  without ;  and  as  the  long  waving  boom  of  the 
bell  pulsed  through  us,  looked  soberly  at  each  other,  as  if  America 
and  the  nineteenth  century  were  a  fading  dream,  slowly  repeat- 
ing— 

"  The  cuffew ; — to  be  sure — yes — the  curfew." 


108  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Chester  Market  —  The  Town  Common  —  Race-course  —  The  Yeomanry  Cav- 
alry, and  the  Militia  of  England  —  Public  Wash-house. 

ITHE  day  after  we  came  to  Chester  was  market-day,  and  the 
-*-  streets  were  busy  at  an  early  hour  with  people  coming  in 
from  the  country  to  sell  produce,  or  purchase  the  supplies  for  their 
families  for  the  coming  week.  The  quantity  of  butter  exposed 
for  sale  was  very  large,  and  the  quality  excellent.  The  fish- 
market  also  was  finely  supplied.  The  dealing  in  both  these 
articles  was  mostly  done  by  women.* 

After  walking  through  the  market,  we  went  to  the  Roodee, 
and  there  saw  the  Yeomanry  reviewed.  They  wore  a  snug  blue 
uniform,  were  armed  with  sabres,  carbines,  and  pistols,  and  were 
rather  better  mounted  and  drilled  than  any  of  our  mounted  mili- 
tia that  I  have  seen.  The  active  commander  seemed  to  be  a 
regular  martinet.  If  the  lines  got  much  out  of  dress  while  on  the 
trot,  he  would  dash  up,  shaking  his  fist,  and  loudly  cursing  the 

*  We  noted  the  follovring  &s  the  common  prices  : 

Butchers'  meat,  10  to  14  cents  per  Ib. 

Best  fresh  butter  in  balls  of  1  'j  Ibs,  35  cents. 

Salmon,  fresh  from  the  Dee,  35  cents  per  Ib. 

Turbot-,  35  cents  per  Ib. 

Soles  and  other  fish,  16  cents  per  Ib. 


MILITIA  SYSTEM  OF  ENGLAND.  109 

squadron  at  fault.  I  noticed,  also,  that  when  pleased,  he  some- 
times addressed  them  in  the  ranks  as  "  gentlemen."  He  was 
probably  some  old  army  officer,  engaged  to  drill  them.  The 
colonel  of  the  regiment,  who  was  constantly  on  the  ground  every 
day  while  we  were  at  Chester,  is  Lord  Grosvenor,  heir  to  one  of 
the  largest  estates  in  England.  A  young  man  in  the  dress  of  an 
officer,  but  dismounted,  informed  us  that  their  number  was  800,  in 
five  companies.  Most  of  them  were  farmers  ;  every  farmer  of  a 
certain  age  in  the  county  (as  we  understood  him)  being  obliged  to 
serve  three  years,  but  allowed  to  send  a  substitute  if  he  chooses. 
They  are  out  but  once  a  year  for  training,  and  then  continuously 
for  eight  days,  and  while  engaged  receive  75  cents  a  day.  They 
cannot  be  ordered  out  of  the  country,  and  are  seldom  called  into 
active  service,  except  to  quell  riots. 

I  frequently  asked  afterwards  for  more  information  about  the 
yeomanry,  but  never  found  a  person  who  seemed  to  know  much 
about  them.  A  man  in  the  ranks  of  the  Denbigshire  yeomanry, 
told  us  the  service  was  optional.  In  some  counties  there  is  no 
such  body,  and  the  organization,  laws,  and  customs  of  it  seem  to 
vary  in  the  different  regiments.  There  is  a  regular  foot-militia 
organization  throughout  England  (the  "train-bands"),  but  none 
of  them,  I  believe,  have  been  paraded  for  many  years. 

According  to  a  parliamentary  return  of  1838,  there  were  then 
of  the  mounted  yeomanry  251  troops,  numbering  13,594  privates; 
the  annual  expense  of  maintaining  them  was  $525,000.  The  en- 
rolled militia  of  England  in  1838  numbered  200,000  men.  The 
officers  of  these  forces,  when  in  service,  rank  with  those  of  the 
army  of  the  same  grade.  A  part  of  the  uniform  and  mountings 
of  the  yeomanry  are  paid  for  by  the  government,  and  some  small 
daily  compensation  is  allowed  the  privates  when  in  service.  A 
drill-sergeant  and  a  trumpeter  is  also  permanently  attached  to 
each  troop,  with  a  salary  from  the  state. 


110  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Napier  mentions  that  the  greater  part  of  the  16,000  British 
troops  who  gained  the  battle  of  Talavera,  were  men  drafted  from 
the  militia  at  home,  and  that  they  had  but  very  recently  joined 
the  army  hi  Spain. 

Coming  up  from  the  Eoodee,  we  visited  the  Castle.  It  is  of 
no  importance  in  a  military  way,  except  as  a  depot.  There  are 
30,000  stand  of  arms  and  a  large  quantity  of  gunpowder  stored 
in  it.  It  is  garrisoned  by  an  Irish  regiment  at  present,  which,  as 
well  as  the  yeomanry,  has  a  very  good  band  of  music,  by  which 
the  town  benefits. 

"We  afterwards  visited  the  public  baths  and  wash-house.  In 
its  basement  there  are  twenty  square  tubs,  each  with  hot  and  cold 
water  cocks,  wash-board,  and  pounder,  a  drying-closet  heated  by 
steam  to  212°  F.,  etc.  In  the  first  story  are  the  usual  private 
baths,  and  a  swimming  tank  or  public  bath,  having  a  constant 
influx  of  fresh  water  by  a  jet  from  below,  and  an  overflow.  It  is 
45  by  36  feet,  2^  feet  deep  at  one  end,  6  at  the  other,  contains 
36,000  gallons,  and  is  furnished  with  swings,  diving-stage,  life- 
buoys, etc.  It  was  built  by  a  committee  of  the  citizens,  and 
bought  by  the  town  very  soon  after  it  went  into  operation.  The 
whole  cost  was  $10,000,  most  of  which  was  raised  by  a  stock 
subscription.  The  water  is  supplied  from  the  canal,  and  is  all 
filtered — the  cost  of  the  filtering  machine  being  $200.  The  prin- 
cipal items  of  current  expenses  are  fuel  and  salaries.  The  cost 
of  coal  (very  low  here)  is  $5  a  week.  There  are  four  persons 
constantly  employed  in  the  establishment,  viz:  superintendent 
and  wife,  who  are  paid  $10  a  week,  and  receive  something  be- 
sides as  perquisites,  (supplying  bathing-dresses,  for  instance,  at  a 
small  charge ;)  the  bath-attendant,  and  the  fireman,  who  each 
have  $7.50  a  week.  Total  salaries  $25  a  week.  The  charges 
for  the  use  of  the  clothes-washing  conveniences  is  about  one  cent 


PUBLIC  BATH.  Ill 


an  hour.  For  the  baths,  it  varies  from  two  to  twenty-five  cents, 
certain  hours  being  appointed  for  those  who  choose,  by  paying  a 
larger  sum,  to  avoid  a  crowd.  There  are  also  commutations  by 
the  year,  at  lower  rates :  boys,  for  instance,  have  a  yearly  ticket 
for  about  a  dollar.  During  the  first  year  it  has  something  more 
than  paid  expenses.  The  number  of  bathers  the  last  week  (in 
May)  was  over  one  thousand.  I  give  these  statistics,  as  this 
establishment  is  rather  smaller  than  most  of  the  kind,  and  they 
may  serve  the  projectors  of  a  similar  one  in  some  of  our  smaller 
cities. 


112  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Visit  to  Eaton  Hall  —  The  Largest  Arch  in  the  World  —  The  Outer  Park  — 
Backwoods  Farming— The  Deer  Park  —  The  Hall  —  The  Parterre  — 
The  Lawn  —  The  Fruit  Garden  —  Stables. 

TN  the  afternoon  we  walked  to  Eaton  Park. 
•*•  Probably  there  is  no  object  01"  art  that  Americans  of  cultiva- 
ted taste  more  generally  long  to  see  in  Europe,  than  an  English 
park.  What  artist,  so  noble,  has  often  been  my  thought,  as  he 
who,  with  far-reaching  conception  of  beauty  and  designing  power, 
sketches  the  outline,  writes  the  colors,  and  directs  the  shadows  of 
a  picture  so  great  that  Nature  shall  be  employed  upon  it  for  gen- 
erations, before  the  work  he  has  arranged  for  her  shall  realize  his 
intentions. 

Eaton  Hall  and  Park  is  one  of  the  seats  of  the  Marquis  of 
Westminster,  a  very  wealthy  nobleman,  who  has  lately  been 
named  "  Lord  High  Chamberlain  to  her  Majesty,"  a  kind  of 
state-housekeeper  or  steward,  I  take  it — an  office  which  Punch, 
and  a  common  report  of  a  niggardly  disposition  in  his  private 
affairs,  deems  him  particularly  well  fitted  for. 

We  left  town  by  the  new,  or  Grosvenor  bridge — a  simple, 
grand,  and  every  way  excellent  work,  crossing  the  Dee  by  a 
single  arch,  which  we  are  told  is  the  largest  in  the  world.  It  is 


THE  OUTER  PARK.  113 


entirely  free  from  decoration,  and  the  effect  of  it,  as  seen  looking 
from  the  river  side,  imposing.  It  was  built  by  the  Marquis,  whose 
family  name  is  Grosvenor,  at  a  cost  of  $180,000  (£36,000).  The 
designer  was  Thomas  Harrison,  an  architect  of  note,  who  former- 
ly lived  in  Chester.* 

By  the  side  of  the  road  we  found  an  oratory,  or  small  chapel, 
building,  and  gardeners  laying  out  grounds  for  a  rural  cemetery. 
Beyond  this  we  came  to  the  great  castellated  edifice  that  I  have 
before  spoken  of,  as  the  gateway  to  the  park.  Such  we  were 
told  it  was,  and  were  therefore  surprised  to  find  within  only  a 
long,  straight  road,  with  but  tolerable  mowing  lots  alternating  by 
the  side  of  it  with  thick  plantations  of  trees,  differing  little  from 
the  twenty-year  old  natural  wood  of  my  own  farm,  except  that 
hollies,  laurels,  and  our  common  dog-wood,  were  planted  regular- 
ly along  the  edge.  After  awhile  we  pushed  into  this  wood,  to 
see  if  we  could  not  scare  up  the  deer.  We  soon  saw  daylight  on 
the  outside,  and  about  twelve  rods  from  the  road,  came  to  an 
open  field,  separated  from  the  wood  only  by  a  common  Yankee 
three-rail  fence,  which  I  had  not  expected  to  see  in  England ; 
very  poor  it  was,  too. 

A  stout  boy,  leaning  heavily  on  the  stilts,  was  plowing  stubble- 
ground.  We  jumped  over  and  asked  what  crop  the  ground  was 
preparing  for.  The  horses  stopped  of  their  own  accord  when  we 
spoke.  The  boy  turned  and  sat  upon  the  stilts-brace,  and  then 
answered — "  Erdnow." 

The  same  answer,  or  some  other  sounds  that  we  could  not 
guess  the  meaning  of,  followed  several  other  questions.  The 
plow  had  a  wooden  beam,  bound  round  with  hoop  iron.  The 

*  The  main  arch  spans  two  hundred  feet,  and  its  height  is  forty  feet,  and  there  are  two 
dry  arches,  each  twenty  feet  wide  and  forty  feet  high.  From  the  surface  of  the  water  to 
the  road  is  over  sixty  feet.  The  parapet  walls  are  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  with 
a  carriage-way  and  foot-path  between,  of  thirty  feet. 

8 


114  Ay  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

horses  seemed  to  be  worn-out  hacks ;  the  harness  was  mended 
with  bits  of  rope ;  the  furrows  were  crooked  and  badly  turned. 
Altogether,  a  more  unfarmer-like  turn-out,  and  a  worse  piece  of 
work,  I  never  saw  in  our  own  backwoods.  When  we  last  saw 
the  plowman,  he  had  taken  off  his  woollen  cap  and  seemed  about 
lighting  a  pipe,  and  the  horses  were  beginning  to  nibble  at  the 
stubble,  which  stuck  up  in  tufts  all  over  the  plowed  ground.  In 
getting  back  to  the  road,  we  crossed  a  low  spot,  sinking  ankle 
deep  in  mire,  and  noticed  several  trees  not  eight  inches  thick, 
which  showed  signs  of  decay. 

We  tramped  on  for  several  miles,  I  think,  through  this  tame 
scenery  and  most  ungentlemanly  farming,  until  it  became  really 
tiresome.  At  length  the  wood  fell  back,  and  the  road  was  lined 
for  some  way  with  a  double  row  of  fine  elms.  Still  no  deer.  A 
little  further,  and  we  came  to  a  cottage  beautifully  draped  with 
ivy,  and  passed  through  another  gate.  Ah !  here  is  the  real  park 
at  last. 

A  gently  undulating  surface  of  close-cropped  pasture  land, 
reaching  way  off  inimitably ;  veiy  old,  but  not  very  large  trees 
scattered  singly  and  in  groups — so  far  apart  as  to  throw  long  un- 
broken shadows  across  broad  openings  of  light,  and  leave  the 
view  in  several  directions  unobstructed  for  a  long  distance. 
Herds  of  fallow-deer,  fawns,  cattle,  sheep,  and  lambs  quietly 
feeding  near  us,  and  moving  slowly  in  masses  at  a  distance ;  a 
warm  atmosphere,  descending  sun,  and  sublime  shadows  from 
fleecy  clouds  transiently  darkening  in  succession,  sunny  surface, 
cool  woodside,  flocks  and  herds,  and  foh'age. 

The  road  ran  on  winding  through  this.  We  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  walked  slowly  for  a  little  way,  then  turned  aside  at 
the  nearest  tree,  and  lay  down  to  take  it  all  in  satisfactorily. 
Then  we  arose  and  went  among  the  deer.  They  were  small  and 
lean,  all  with  their  heads  down  feeding.  Among  them  was  one 


THE  DEER  —  SHEEP.  1 15 

pure  white  fawn ;  none  had  antlers,  or  more  than  mere  prongs. 
They  seemed  to  be  quite  as  tame  as  the  sheep ;  but  suddenly,  as 
we  came  still  nearer,  all,  as  if  one,  raised  high  their  heads,  and 
bounded  off  in  a  high  springing  gallop.  After  going  a  few  rods, 
one  stopped  short,  and  facing  about,  stood  alone,  with  ears  erect, 
and  gleaming  eyes,  intent  upon  us.  A  few  rods  further,  the 
whole  herd  halted  in  mass  and  stood  in  the  same  way,  looking  at 
us.  One  by  one  the  heads  again  dropped ;  a  fawn  stepped  out 
from  among  them ;  the  one  nearest  us  turned  and  trotted  to  it, 
and  then  all  fell  quietly  to  feeding  again. 

The  sheep  were  of  a  large,  coarse- wooled  variety,  some  of  them 
nearly  as  large,  only  not  standing  quite  so  high,  as  the  deer — 
not  handsome  at  all  (as  sheep)  even  for  a  mutton  breed ;  but  in 
groups  at  a  distance,  and  against  the  shadows,  far  prettier  than 
'the  deer.  The  cattle  were  short-horned,  large,  dapple-skinned, 
sleek,  and  handsome,  but  not  remarkable. 

We  concluded  that  the  sheep  and  cattle  were  of  the  most  value 
for  their  effect  in  the  landscape ;  but  it  was  a  little  exciting  to  us 
to  watch  the  deer,  particularly  as  we  would  sometimes  see  them 
in  a  large  herd  leisurely  moving  across  an  opening  among  the 
trees,  a  long  way  off,  and  barely  distinguishable ;  or  still  more 
when  one,  two,  or  three,  which  had  been  separated  from  a  nearer 
herd,  suddenly  started,  and  dashed  wildly  by  us,  within  pistol  shot. 

"  I  don't  think  they  are  as  large  as  our  Maine  fallow-deer." 

"  I  wonder  if  they'd  taste  as  good  as  they  did  that  night." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  not — no  hemlock  to  toast  them  over." 

"  Or  to  sleep  on  afterwards,  eh ! " 

"  And  no  wolves  to  keep  you  awake." 

Following  the  carriage  road,  we  came  near  a  mass  of  shrub- 
bery, over  and  beyond  which  the  trees  were  closer  and  taller.  It 
was  separated  from  the  deer  park  by  an  iron  fence.  Passing  this 


116  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

by  another  light  gate,  and  between  thick  underwood,  we  found 
ourselves  close  to  the  entrance  front  of  the  Hah1. 

"  It  is  considered  the  most  splendid  specimen  of  the  pointed  Gothic.  It 
consists  of  a  centre  and  three  stories,  finished  with  octagonal  turrets,  con- 
nected with  the  main  part  by  lofty  intermediate  towers,  the  whole  enriched 
by  buttresses,  niches,  and  pinnacles,  and  adorned  with  elaborately  carved 
heraldic  designs,  fretwork,  and  foliage,  surmounted  throughout  by  an  en- 
riched battlement." 

So  much  from  the  Guide  Book.  It  is  not  my  business  to  at- 
tempt a  criticism  of  "  the  finest  specimen  of  the  pointed  Gothic" 
in  England ;  but  I  may  honestly  say  that  it  did  not,  as  a  whole, 
produce  the  expected  effect  upon  us,  without  trying  to  find  rea- 
sons for  the  failure.  Even  when  we  came  to  look  at  it  closely, 
we  found  little  to  admire.  There  was  no  great  simple  beauty  in 
it  as  a  mass,  nor  yet  vigorous  original  character  enough  in  the 
details  to  make  them  an  interesting  study.  The  edifice  is  long 
and  low,  and  covered  with  an  immense  amount  of  meaningless 
decoration. 

Such  was  our  first  impression,  and  we  were  greatly  disappoint- 
ed, you  may  be  sure.  We  admired  it  more  afterwards  on  the 
other  side,  from  the  middle  of  a  great  garden,  where  it  seems  to 
stand  much  higher,  being  set  up  on  terraces,  and  gaining  much, 
I  suspect,  from  the  extension  of  architectural  character  to  the 
grounds  in  its  front.  Here  we  acknowledged  a  good  deal  of 
magnificence  in  its  effect.  Still  it  seemed  as  if  it  might  have 
been  obtained  in  some  other  style,  with  less  labor,  and  to  be  much 
frittered  away  in  a  confusion  of  ornament. 

This  garden  is  a  curiosity.  It  is  in  the  geometrical  style,  and 
covers  eight  acres,  it  is  said,  though  it  does  not  seem  nearly  that 
to  the  eye.  It  is  merely  a  succession  of  small  arabesque  figures 
of  fine  grass  or  flower  beds,  set  in  hard,  rolled,  dark-colored 


EATON  HALL  GARDEN.  117 

gravel.  The  surface,  dropping  by  long  terraces  from  the  steps 
of  the  Hall  to  the  river,  is  otherwise  only  varied  by  pyramidal 
yews  and  box,  and  a  few  vases.  On  the  whole,  the  effect  of  it, 
in  connection  with  the  house,  and  looking  towards  it,  is  fine,  more 
so  than  I  should  have  expected ;  and  it  falls  so  rapidly,  that  it 
affects  the  landscape  seen  in  this  direction  from  the  house  but 
little,  and,  as  an  enriched  foreground,  not  disagreeably.  This 
landscape  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  looking  across  the  Dee,  over  a 
lovely  valley  towards  some  high,  blue  mountains.  From  other 
parts  of  the  Hall,  vistas  open  through  grand  avenues  of  elms ; 
and  there  are  some  noble  single  trees  about  the  lawn. 

The  English  elm  is  a  much  finer  tree  than  I  had  been  aware 
of — very  tall,  yet  with  drooping  limbs  and  fine  thick  foliage ;  not 
so  fine  as  a  single  tree  as  our  elm,  but  more  effective  in  masses, 
because  thicker  and  better  filled  out  in  its  general  outline. 

The  Hall  was  undergoing  extensive  alterations  and  repairs ; 
and  all  the  grounds  immediately  about  it,  except  the  terrace  gar- 
den, were  lumbered  up  with  brick  and  stone,  and  masons'  sheds, 
and  in  complete  coufusion.  Being  Saturday,  all  the  workmen 
had  left,  and  it  was  long  before  we  could  find  any  one  about  the 
house.  We  had  got  very  thirsty,  and  considering  that  such  a 
place  would  not  be  left  without  any  tenants,  determined  that  we 
would  get  a  drink.  After  hammering  for  some  time  at  a  door 
under  the  principal  entrance,  a  woman  came  and  opened  it  a  few 
inches,  and  learning  our  wish,  brought  us  a  glass  of  water,  which 
she  passed  out  through  the  narrow  opening,  never  showing  her 
face.  "We  were  amused  at  this,  which  she  perceiving,  told  us  the 
door  was  chained  and  padlocked,  so  she  could  not  open  it  wider. 

Soon  after,  while  looking  for  an  entrance  to  the  fruit  garden, 
we  met  a  gamekeeper,  who  was  followed  by  a  pet  cub  fox.  He 
very  obligingly  showed  us  through  such  parts  of  the  establishment 
as  he  was  able  to.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  gardens 


118  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

or  glass-houses,  except  some  large  and  well-trained  fruit  trees  on 
walls.  Every  tiling  was  neglected  now,  however,  and  we  did  no 
more  than  glance  at  them.  There  were  some  new  stables  nearly 
finished,  the  plans  of  which  I  studied  with  interest.  Each  horse 
is  to  have  a  private  box.  I  do  not  recollect  the  exact  size,  but 
it  is  at  least  twelve  feet  square  on  the  floor,  and  more  than  that 
high.  In  the  ceiling  is  a  ventilator,  and  in  one  corner  an  iron 
rack  for  hay  (much  like  a  fire-grate)  ;  and  there  is  probably  in- 
tended to  be  a  small  manger  for  fine  and  wet  feed.  There  is  a 
grating  for  drainage  hi  the  floor,  and,  besides  these,  no  other  fix- 
tures whatever.  The  horse  is  to  be  left  free  within  the  walls. 


POACHING.  119 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

Gamekeeper — Game  Preserves — Eccleston,  a  pretty  village  —  The  School 
House  —  Draining  —  Children  Playing  —  The  River-side  Walk  —  Pleas- 
ure Parties  —  A  Contrasting  Glimpse  of  a  Sad  Heart  —  Saturday  Night 
—  Ballad  Singer  —  Mendicants  —  Row  in  the  Tap-room  —  Woman's  Fee- 
bleness —  Chester  Beer,  and  Beer-drinking. 

HHHE  gamekeeper  advised  us  to  return  to  Chester  by  another 
•*-  road,  and  following  his  directions,  we  found  a  delightful  path 
by  the  river  side.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  we  overtook  an- 
other keeper,  carrying  a  gun.  It  is  hard  for  us  to  look  upon  wild 
game  as  property,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  temptation  to  poach 
upon  it  must  be  often  irresistible  to  a  poor  man.  It  must  have  a 
bad  effect  upon  the  moral  character  of  a  community  for  the  law 
to  deal  with  any  man  as  a  criminal  for  an  act  which,  in  his  own 
conscience,  is  not  deemed  sinful.  Even  this  keeper  seemed  to 
look  upon  poaching  as  not  at  all  wrong — merely  a  trial  of  adroit- 
ness between  the  poacher  and  himself,  though  it  was  plain  that 
detection  would  place  the  poacher  among  common  swindlers  and 
thieves,  exclude  him  from  the  society  of  the  religious,  and  from 
reputable  employment,  and  make  the  future  support  of  life  by 
unlawful  means  almost  a  necessity.  He  said,  however,  there 
was  very  little  poaching  in  the  neighborhood.  Most  of  the 
farmers  were  allowed  to  shoot  within  certain  limits,  and  the 


120  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

laboring  class  were  generally  wanting  in  either  the  means  or  the 
pluck  to  attempt  it 

Evidently  a  man  has  a  right  to  foster  and  increase  the  natural 
stock  of  wild  game  upon  his  own  land,  that  is,  in  a  degree  to  do- 
mesticate it ;  and  the  law  should  protect  him  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  results  of  the  labor  and  pains  he  has  taken  for  this  purpose. 
The  undefinable  character  of  such  property,  however,  makes  the 
attempt  to  preserve  it  inexpedient,  and  often  leads  to  injustice ; 
and  when  the  preserve  is  sustained  at  the  expense  of  very  great 
injury  to  more  important  means  of  sustaining  human  life  in  a 
half-starved  community,  the  poacher  is  more  excusable  than  the 
proprietor. 

That  this  is  often  the  case  in  England,  I  more  than  once  saw 
evidence.  A  picture,  drawn  by  the  agricultural  correspondent 
of  the  London  Times  of  Nov.  11,  1851,  represents  a  scene  of  this 
kind,  more  remarkable  however  than  any  that  came  under  my 
notice : 

"  At  Stamford  we  passed  into  Northamptonshire,  obtaining  a 
glimpse  of  the  Marquis  of  Exeter's  finely  wooded  park  and  man- 
sion of  Burleigh.  This  magnificent  place,  founded  by  Queen 
Elizabeth's  Lord  Treasurer  Cecil,  with  its  grand  old  trees  and 
noble  park,  is  just  the  place  to  which  a  foreigner  should  be  taken 
to  give  him  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  our  English  nobility. 

"  The  tenants  on  this  estate  are  represented  as  being  in  the 
most  hopeless  state  of  despondency  on  account  of  the  present  low 
prices  of  agricultural  produce,  and  as  they  were  complaining  ve- 
hemently, the  Marquis  offered  to  have  the  farms  of  any  tenants 
who  desired  it,  revalued.  Only  one  on  this  great  estate  accepted 
the  offer.  There  have  been  no  farms  of  any  consequence  yet 
given  up,  and  for  those  which  do  come  into  the  market  there  are 
plenty  of  offerers,  though  men  of  capital  are  becoming  chary,  and 
will  only  look  at  very  desirable  farms.  The  estate  is  said  to  be 


GAME  PRESERVES.  121 


low-rented.  Small  farmers,  of  whom  there  are  many,  are  suffer- 
ing most  severely,  as  they  have  not  saved  any  thing  in  good  times 
to  fall  back  upon  now.  Some  of  them  are,  indeed,  greatly  re- 
duced, and  we  heard  of  one  who  had  applied  to  his  parish  for 
relief.  Others  have  sold  every  thing  off  their  farms,  and  some, 
we  were  told,  had  not  even  seed  corn  left  with  which  to  sow  their 
fields. 

"  In  a  fine  country,  with  a  gently  undulating  surface  and  a  soil 
dry  and  easy  of  culture,  laid  into  large  fields  moderately  rented, 
one  is  surprised  to  hear  that  there  is  so  much  complaint  and  so 
much  real  suffering  among  the  poorer  class  of  farmers.  It  is 
only  in  part  accounted  for  by  the  devastation  of  game,  which  on 
this  and  some  other  noblemen's  estates  in  North  Northampton- 
shire, is  still  most  strictly  preserved.  On  the  24th  of  January 
last,  seven  guns,  as  we  were  told,  on  the  Marquis's  estate,  killed 
430  head  of  game,  a  most  immoderate  quantity  at  such  a  late 
period  of  the  season.  The  fields  are  all  stuck  about  with  bushes 
to  prevent  the  poachers  netting;  and  the  farmers  feel  most 
severely  the  losses  they  sustain,  in  order  that  their  landlord  and 
his  friends  may  not  be  deprived  of  their  sport.  The  strict  pres- 
ervation of  game  on  this  and  some  other  estates  in  the  northern 
parts  of  the  county,  was  described  to  us  in  the  bitterest  terms,  as 
i  completely  eating  up  the  tenant  farmer,  and  against  which  no 
man  can  farm  or  live  upon  the  farm.'  It  is  *  the  last  ounce  that 
breaks  the  camel's  back,'  and  men  who  might  have  made  a  man- 
ful struggle  against  blighted  crops  and  low  prices,  are  overborne 
by  a  burden  which  they  feel  to  be  needlessly  inflicted,  and  of 
which  they  dare  not  openly  complain. 

"  In  consequence  of  the  distress  among  the  small  farmers,  many 
of  the  laborers  would  have  been  thrown  out  of  employment  had 
work  not  been  found  for  them  by  the  Marquis  in  stubbing  and 
clearing  woodland,  which  will  thus  be  reclaimed  for  cultivation. 


122  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

The  improvement  is  expected  to  be  amply  remunerative  in  the 
end,  and  it  is  one  of  the  unlooked-for  results  of  free  trade,  which 
are  to  be  met  with  in  every  part  of  the  country,  that  a  landlord 
is  compelled  by  circumstances,  various  in  kind,  to  improve  the 
neglected  portions  of  his  estate,  and  which,  without  such  impel- 
ling cause,  might  have  long  lain  unproductive.  Every  such  im- 
provement is  not  merely  an  addition  to  the  arable  land  of  the 
kingdom,  but  it  becomes  also  an  increased  source  of  employment 
to  the  laborer." 

I  witnessed  immense  injury  done  to  turnip  crops  by  shooting 
over  them,  in  Scotland.  I  was  once  visiting  a  tenant-farmer 
there,  when  for  a  whole  half  day  a  "  gentleman"  with  three  dogs, 
was  trampling  down  his  Swedes,  not  once  going  out  of  the  field. 
He  was  a  stranger,  having  the  permission  of  the  owner  of  the 
property  to  shoot  over  it,  probably,  and  the  farmer  said  it  would 
do  no  good  to  remonstrate ;  he  would  only  be  laughed  at  and 
insulted. 

We  passed  near  a  rookery,  and  the  keeper  was  good  enough 
to  shoot  one  of  the  rooks  for  us  to  look  at.  It  was  a  shorter- 
winged  and  rather  heavier  bird  than  our  crow,  with  a  larger  head 
and  a  peculiar  thick  bill.  At  a  distance  the  difference  would  not 
be  readily  distinguished.  The  caw  was  on  a  lower  note,  and 
more  of  a  parrot  tone,  much  like  the  guttural  croak  of  a  fledgling 
crow.  The  keeper  did  not  confirm  the  farmer's  statement  of 
their  quality  for  the  table.  When  they  were  fat  they  made  a 
tolerable  pie  only,  he  said,  not  as  good  as  pigeons.  The  rookery 
wa?,  as  we  have  often  seen  it  described,  a  collection  of  crows'-like 
nests  among  the  tops  of  some  large  trees. 

We  turned  off  from  the  river  a  little  way  to  look  at  Eccleston, 
a  village  on  the  border  of  the  park,  and  one  of  the  prettiest  we 
saw  in  England. 

The  cottages  were  nearly  all  of  the  timber  and  noggin  walls  I 


THE  COTTAGES  OF  ECCLESTON.  123 

have  described  as  common  at  Chester,  covered  with  thick  thatch- 
ed roofs,  with  frequent  and  different-sized  dormers,  often  with 
bow-windows,  porches,  well-houses,  etc.,  of  unpainted  oak  or  of 
rustic  work  (boughs  of  trees  with  the  bark  on),  broad  latticed 
windows  opening  on  hinges,  a  profusion  of  creeping  vines  on  trel- 
lises, and  often  covering  all  the  walls  and  hanging  down  over  the 
windows,  little  flower-gardens  full  of  roses,  and  wallflowers,  and 
violets,  and  mignonette,  enclosed  in  front  by  a  closely  trimmed 
hedge  of  yew,  holly,  or  hawthorn,  sometimes  of  both  the  latter 
together,  and  a  nicely-sloped  bank  of  turf  between  it  and  the 
road.  I  made  a  sketch  of  one  of  them.  An  intelligent  laboring 
man  talked  with  me  while  I  was  drawing  it,  and  said  it  was  the 
residence  of  the  schoolmaster,  and  the  village  school  was  kept 
in  it.  The  main  part  (which  was  covered  with  our  Virginia 
creeper)  was  over  three  hundred  years  old ;  a  part  of  the  wing 
was  modern. 

This  laborer  had  been  digging  drains  in  the  vicinity.  He  said 
the  practice  was  to  make  them  from  18  to  36  inches  deep,  and 
from  5  to  7  yards  apart,  or  "in  the  old  buts" — "The  buts?" 
"  Ay,  the  buts."  He  meant  what  we  sometimes  call  the  "  'bouts" 
(turnabouts)  or  furrows  between  the  lands  in  plowing,  which  here 
are  often  kept  unaltered  for  generations  for  surface  drainage,  and, 
oddly  enough,  considering  the  many  manifest  inconveniences  of 
retaining  them,  as  we  were  often  told,  on  account  of  the  conven- 
ience of  measuring  or  dividing  fields  by  them,  (as  our  farmers 
are  often  guided  in  their  sowing  by  the  lands,  and  estimate  areas 
by  counting  the  panels  of  fence.)  Tiles,  such  as  are  being  now 
introduced  with  us,  an  inch  or  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter 
(without  collars),  were  laid  in  the  drains  to  conduct  the  water. 
The  usual  crop  of  potatoes  in  the  vicinity  he  thought  about 
three  measures  to  a  rood,  or  225  bushels  to  an  acre ;  of  wheat, 
30  bushels. 


124  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

We  went  into  a  stylish  inn  to  get  some  refreshment,  and  while 
waiting  for  it,  watched  some  little  girls  playing  in  the  street 
They  stood,  four  holding  hands,  dancing  and  singing  round  one 
("  Dobbin")  lying  on  the  ground  : 

Old  Dobbin  is  dead, 

Ay,  ay; 
Dobbin  is  dead, 
He's  laid  in  his  bed, 

Ay,  ay. 

There  let  him  lie, 

Ay,  ay; 

Keep  watch  for  his  eye. 
For  if  he  gets  up 
Hell  eat  us  all  UP  — 

and  away  they  scampered  and  Dobbin  after  them.  The  one  he 
first  catches  lays  down  again  for  "  Dobbin,"  when  it  is  repeated. 

The  church  was  a  little  one  side  of  the  village  on  an  elevation, 
and  so  hidden  by  trees  that  we  only  saw  a  square  tower  and  vane. 
Near  it  a  neat  stone  building,  I  thought  likely  to  be  the  parsonage, 
and  pointing  towards  it  soon  after,  asked  a  man  who  lived  in  it? 
His  reply  was,  "  Why,  there's  none  but  poor  peoples'  houses 
there,  sir ! "  The  vicarage  he  showed  us  in  another  direction — 
a  fine  house  in  spacious  -grounds. 

From  Eccleston  we  had  a  delightful  walk  in  the  evening  to 
Chester.  There  is  a  good  foot-path  for  miles  along  the  river 
bank,  with  gates  or  stiles  at  all  the  fences  that  run  down  to  it, 
and  we  met  great  numbers  of  persons,  who  generally  seemed 
walking  for  pleasure.  There  were  pleasure  boats,  too,  with  par- 
ties of  ladies  under  awnings,  rowing  up  and  down  the  river, 
sometimes  with  music. 

We  were  stopped  by  some  laboring  people  going  home,  who 
asked  us  to  look  after  a  poor  woman  we  should  see  sitting  by  the 


BALLAD  SINGER.  125 


water  side  over  the  next  stile,  who,  they  feared,  had  been  unfor- 
tunate, and  was  going  to  drown  herself.  She  had  been  there  for 
an  hour,  and  they  had  been  for  some  time  trying  to  prevail  on  her 
to  get  up  and  go  home,  but  she  would  not  reply  to  them.  We 
found  her  as  they  had  said — a  tall,  thin  woman,  without  hat  or 
cap  on  her  head,  sitting  under  the  bank  behind  some  bushes,  a 
little  bundle  in  a  handkerchief  on  her  knees,  her  head  thrown 
forward  resting  upon  it,  her  hands  clasped  over  her  forehead,  and 
looking  moodily  into  the  dark  stream.  We  drew  back  and  sat 
on  the  stile,  where  we  could  see  if  she  stepped  into  the  water. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  arose,  and  avoiding  to  turn  her  face  towards 
us,  walked  rapidly  towards  the  town.  We  followed  her  until  she 
was  lost  in  a  crowd  near  the  gate. 

We  found  the  streets  within  the  walls  all  flaring  with  gas  light, 
and  crowded  with  hawkers  and  hucksters  with  donkey  carts, 
soldiers,  and  policemen,  and  laboring  men  and  women  making 
purchases  with  their  week's  earnings,  which,  until  lately,  it  has 
been  a  universal  custom  in  England  to  pay  on  Saturday  night 
We  heard  a  ballad-monger  singing  with  a  drawling,  nasal  tone, 
on  a  high  key,  and  listened  for  awhile  to  see  what  he  had.  One 
after  another  he  would  hold  them  up  by  a  gas  light,  and  sing 
them.  The  greater  number  were  protection  songs,  with  "  free 
trade"  and  "ruin"  oft  repeated,  and  were  the  worst  kind  of  dog- 
gerel. One  (sung  to  "  Oh,  Susannah ! ")  I  recollect,  as  follows : 

"  Oh,  poor  farmers, 

Don't  wait  and  cry  in  rain, 
But  be  off  to  Californy, 
If  you  cannot  drive  the  wain." 

He  read  also  choice  scraps  from  confessions  of  murderers; 
parts  of  the  prayer-book  travestied  so  as  to  tell  against  free  trade ; 
and  other  such  literature.  In  another  place  we  found  a  crowd 


126  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

about  a  man  with  a  flute,  a  woman  with  a  hurdy-gurdy,  and  three 
little  children  singing  what  we  guessed  must  be  Welsh  songs — 
regular  wails.  The  youngest  was  a  boy,  not  appearing  to  be  over 
five  years  old,  and  was  all  but  naked. 

In  front  of  our  inn  a  man  held  in  his  arms  a  fine,  well-dressed 
little  boy,  and  cried  in  a  high,  loud,  measured,  monotonous  drawl, 
continuously  over  and  over — "  His  mother  died  in  Carlisle  we 
have  traveled  twenty-seven  miles  to-day  I  have  no  money  she 
left  this  boy  yesterday  he  walked  eighteen  miles  I  have  no  supper 
he  is  five  years  old  I  have  walked  two  hundred  miles  this  is  no 
deception  I  have  seen  better  days  friends  his  feet  are  lacerated  I 
am  in  search  of  work  I  am  young  and  strong  he  cannot  walk  his 
mother  died  in  Carlisle  help  me  in  my  lamentations  I  have  but 
sixpence  for  myself  and  boy  friends  I  am  compelled  to  beg  I  am 
young  and  strong  his  mother  died  in  Carlisle  I  am  in  search  of 
work  his  feet  are  lacerated" — and  so  on.  "We  watched  him  from 
the  rows  perhaps  two  minutes,  and  saw  seven  persons  drop  cop- 
pel's  into  his  hat :  two  little  girls  whom  a  man  was  leading,  a  boy, 
a  German  lace-peddler,  a  woman  with  a  basket  of  linen  on  her 
head,  another  woman,  and  a  well-dressed  man. 

The  rest  of  the  evening  we  sat  round  a  bright  coal  fire,  in  what 
had  been  the  great  fireplace  of  the  long  back  parlor.  We  are  the 
only  inmates  of  the  inn  except  Mrs.  Jones,  the  landlady,  and  her 
maid.  About  eleven  o'clock  we  were  disturbed  by  some  riotous 
men  in  the  tap-room,  which  is  the  other  side  of  the  big  chimney. 
Mrs.  Jones  seemed  trying  to  prevail  on  them  to  leave  the  house, 
which  they  refused  to  do,  singing,  "  We  won't  go  home  till  morn- 
ing." Mrs.  Jones  is  a  little,  quiet,  meek,  soft-spoken  woman,  and 
we  were  apprehensive  for  her  safety.  I  was  about  to  go  to  her 
assistance,  when  the  maid  entered  and  said,  "  If  you  please,  sir, 
my  mistress  would  like  to  see  you."  I  went  hastily  round  into 
the  tap-room,  and  found  two  stout,  dirty,  drunken  men,  swinging 


CHESTER  BEER.  127 


I 

pewter  mugs,  and   trying   to  sing  "  There  was  a  jolly  collier." 

Mrs.  Jones  stood  between  them.  I  pushed  one  of  them  aside, 
and  asked  her  what  she  wished — expecting  that  she  would  want 
me  to  try  to  put  him  into  the  street.  The  men  made  such  a  noise 
that  I  could  not  hear  her  mild  voice  in  reply,  which,  she  perceiv- 
ing, turned  again  and  said,  in  a  tone  that  at  once  quelled  them, 
"  Stop  your  noise,  you  brutes  ! " —  and  then  to  me,  "  will  you 
please  step  into  the  kitchen,  sir  ? "  She  only  wished  to  know 
what  we  would  like  to  have  for  our  breakfast  and  dinner,  as  the 
shops  would  close  soon,  and,  to-morrow  being  Sunday,  they  would 
not  be  open  before  noon. 

The  next  morning,  when  we  were  going  out,  she  came  to  un- 
lock the  door  of  the  passage  or  entry,  and  told  us  she  was  obliged 
by  law  to  keep  it  locked  till  two  o'clock.  At  two  o'clock  we 
found  it  open,  and  immediately  after  saw  a  man  drinking  beer  in 
the  tap-room  again. 

There  is  a  continual  and  universal  beer-drinking  in  Chester. 
Mrs.  Jones  tells  us  that  the  quality  of  the  beer  made  here  has 
long  been  a  matter  of  town  pride,  though  now  there  is  very  little 
brewed  in  families,  every  one  almost  being  supplied,  at  a  great 
saving  of  trouble,  from  the  large  breweries.  She  says  there  used 
to  be  a  town  law  that  whoever  brewed  poor  beer  should  be  pub- 
licly ducked.  Sunday  night,  young  men  with  their  sweethearts 
and  sisters,  of  reputable  appearance,  and  quiet,  decent  behavior, 
came  into  our  back  parlor,  and  sitting  by  the  round-table,  ordered 
and  drank  each  their  glass  or  two  of  beer,  as  in  an  American 
town  they  would  take  ice-cream.  Now  and  then  a  few  remarks 
would  be  made  about  the  sermon  and  who  had  been  at  church,  or 
about  those  who  had  been,  or  were  soon  going  to  be,  married,  or 
other  town  gossip ;  but  for  the  most,  they  would  sit  and  drink 
their  beer  in  silence. 


128  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XVHI. 

Character  of  the  Welsh  —  The  Cathedral :  The  Clergy,  Service,  Intoning, 
the  Ludicrous  and  the  Sublime  —  A  Reverie  —  A  Revelation  —  The  Ser- 
mon —  Communions  —  Other  Churches  —  Sunday  Evening  —  Character 
of  the  Townspeople. 

Sunday,  June  2d. 

TT/"E  were  awakened  this  morning  by  a  sweet  chiming  of  the 
cathedral  bells. 

After  breakfast,  Mrs.  Jones  introduced  us  to  a  young  Welsh 
woman,  who  had  come  to  visit  her.  She  was  intelligent  and 
handsome,  having  a  clear,  though  dark  complexion,  thick,  dark 
hair,  and  large  eyes.  This  style  of  beauty  seems  common  here- 
abouts, and  is,  I  judge,  the  Welsh  type. 

She  lived  among  the  mountains  near  Snowdon,  and  told  us  the 
country  there  was  bleak  and  sterile,  and  agriculture  confined 
mostly  to  grazing.  She  spoke  highly  of  the  character  of  the 
peasantry  in  many  respects,  but  said  they  had  strong  prejudices, 
usually  despising  the  English  and  refusing  to  associate  with  them. 
Many  of  them  could  not  speak  English,  and  those  who  could 
would  often  affect  not  to  understand,  if  they  were  addressed  by 
an  Englishman.  Among  themselves  they  were  neighborly,  clan- 
nish, honest,  and  generous,  but  strangers  they  would  impose  upon 
shamelessly.  She  had  known  very  few  to  emigrate,  and  those 


THE  CA  TFIEDRAL  —  OLD  MASONR  T.  129 

that  did  usually  went  to  Australia.  In  her  neighborhood  they 
were  mostly  dissenters — Methodists  and  Baptists,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  deceit  to  strangers,  were  of  much  better  character 
than  the  English  laborers.  They  had,  however,  many  traditional 
superstitions. 

"We  attended  service  in  the  morning  at  the  cathedral.  The 
comparative  lowness  and  depth  of  its  walls,  strengthened  by 
thick,  rude  buttresses,  and  its  short,  square  massive  tower,  to- 
gether with  its  general  time-worn  aspect,  impressed  me  much  as 
an  expression  of  enduring,  self-sustaining  age.  Like  the  stalwart 
trunk  of  a  very  old  oak,  stripped  by  the  tempests  of  much  of  the 
burden  of  its  over-luxuriant  youth,  its  settled,  compact,  ungar- 
nished  grandeur,  was  much  more  imposing  than  the  feeble  grace 
and  pliant  luxuriance  of  many  more  celebrated  structures.  The 
raggedness  of  outline,  the  wrinkles  and  furrows  and  scars  upon 
the  face  of  all  the  old  masonry,  are  very  remarkable.  The  mor- 
tar has  all  fallen  from  the  outside,  and  the  edges  of  the  stones 
are  worn  off  deeply,  but  irregularly,  as  they  vary  in  texture  or 
are  differently  exposed.  The  effect  of  rain  and  snow  and  frost, 
and  mossy  vegetation  and  coal  smoke,  for  six  hundred  years  upon 
the  surface,  I  know  of  no  building  in  America  that  would  give 
you  an  idea  of.  The  material  of  construction  is  a  brown  stone, 
originally  lighter  than  our  Portland  sandstone,  but  now  darker 
than  I  have  ever  seen  that  become.  It  has  had  various  repairs 
at  long  intervals  of  time,  and  is  consequently  in  various  stages  of 
approach  to  ruin — some  small  parts,  not  noticeable  in  a  cursory 
view,  being  in  complete  and  irreparable  demolishment,  and  others 
but  yesterday  restored  to  their  original  lines  and  angles,  with 
clean-cut,  bright-colored  stone  and  mortar — bad  blotches,  but  for- 
tunately not  prominent. 

It  was  once  connected  with  an  abbey,  and  other  religious 
houses  that  stood  near  it,  and  by  a  long  under-ground  passage 

y 


130  Ay  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

with  the  nunnery  at  the  other  side  of  the  town.  Think  of  the 
poor  girls  walking,  with  a  wailing  chant  through  that  mile  of 
darkness,  to  morning  service  at  the  cathedral ! 

Our  approach  to  it  this  morning  was  by  a  something  less 
gloomy  and  tedious  way.  We  were  accidentally  in  an  alley  in 
the  vicinity,  when  we  saw  a  gentleman  in  a  white  gown,  and  a 
square  or  university  cap  on  his  head,  with  a  lady  on  his  arm, 
enter  an  old,  arched,  and  groined  passage.  We  followed  him 
adventurously,  not  being  sure  that  it  was  not  the  entrance  to  his 
residence.  After  passing  to  the  rear  of  the  block  of  buildings 
that  fronted  on  the  alley,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  kind  of  gallery 
or  covered  promenade  attached  to  the  outside  of  the  cathedral. 
(The  cloisters.)  From  this  we  passed  into  the  nave  (or  long  arm 
of  the  cross).  Its  length,  its  broad,  flat  stone  floor,  entirely  free 
from  obstruction,  except  by  a  row  of  thick  clustered  columns  near 
the  sides,  and  the  great  height  and  darkness  of  its  oak-ceiled  roof, 
produced  a  sensation  entirely  new  to  us.  Its  dignity  was  in- 
creased by  a  general  dimness,  and  by  the  breadth  of  the  softened, 
colored  light,  that  flowed  in  one  sheet  through  a  very  large 
stained-glass  window  at  one  end.  In  the  end  opposite  this  were 
wide  piers  that  support  the  tower,  and  between  the  two  central 
ones  of  these  were  the  gilded  organ-pipes  that  we  had  seen  in  our 
nocturnal  visit. 

Under  these  was  an  arched  door,  on  each  side  of  which  stood 
about  thirty  boys,  from  ten  to  fifteen  years  old,  dressed  in  white 
robes — the  "  singing  boys,"  or  "  choristers."  Walking  leisurely 
up  and  down  the  otherwise  vacant  floor  of  the  nave,  were  "  my 
Lord  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells"  (I  believe  that  is  the  title),  the 
dean  and  canons,  etc. ;  a  squad  of  ecclesiastical  dignitaries,  whose 
very  titles  were  strange  to  me,  but  altogether  forming,  what  Mrs. 
Jones  said  wre  should  see,  "  a  very  pretty  pack  of  priests."  The 
bishop  was  a  thin  man,  with  an  insignificant  face,  and  crisp  hair 


A  CLERICAL  AND  LAY  PROCESSION.  131 

brushed  back  from  his  forehead,  dressed  in  a  black  gown  with 
white  lawn  sleeves,  and  a  cap  on  his  head.  The  dean,  a  burly 
man,  strikingly  contrasting  with  the  bishop,  particularly  when 
they  laughed,  in  white  gown  with  a  sort  of  bag  of  scarlet  silk, 
perhaps  a  degenerate  cowl,  tied  around  his  neck,  and  dangling  by 
strings  down  his  back.  The  others  had  something  of  the  same 
sort,  of  different  colors.  We  were  told  afterwards,  that  these 
were  university  badges,  and  that  the  color  was  a  mark  of  rank, 
not  in  university  honors,  but  in  the  scale  of  society — as  nobleman 
or  commoner — (a  pretty  thing  to  carry  into  the  worship  of  the 
Father,  is  it  not  ?)  The  others  were  in  black. 

We  walked  about  for  a  few  minutes  outside  the  columns,  read- 
ing the  inscriptions  on  the  stones  of  the  floor,  which  showed  that 
they  covered  vaults  for  the  dead,  and  looking  at  the  tablets  and 
monumental  effigies  that  were  attached  to  the  walls  and  columns. 
They  were  mostly  of  elaborate  heraldic  design,  many  with  mili- 
tary insignia,  and  nearly  all  excessively  ugly  and  inappropriate 
to  a  place  of  religious  meditation  and  worship. 

After  a  while  the  great  bell  ceased  tolling,  and  some  men  in 
black  serge  loose  gowns,  two  bearing  maces  of  steel  with  silver 
cups  on  the  ends,  the  rest  carrying  black  rods,  entered  and  salu- 
ted the  bishop.  A  procession  then  formed,  headed  by  the  boys, 
in  double  file,  followed  by  the  bishop,  dean,  subdean,  canons 
major  and  minor,  archdeacon,  prebendaries,  etc.,  and  closed  by 
three  Yankees  in  plain  clothes ;  passed  between  the  "  vergers," 
who  bowed  reverently  and  presented  arms,  through  the  door 
under  the  organ  into  the  choir — a  part  of  the  edifice  (in  the 
centre  of  the  cross)  which  is  fitted  up  inconveniently  for  public 
worship. 

It  is  a  small,  narrow  apartment,  having  galleries,  the  occupants 
of  which  are  hidden  behind  a  beautiful  open-work  carved  wood 
screen,  and  furnished  below  with  three  or  four  tiers  of  pews  and 


132  .13'  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAND. 

a  few  benches.  Under  the  organ  loft  were  elevated  armed  seats, 
which  were  occupied  indiscriminately  by  the  unofficiating  clergy 
and  military  officers  in  uniform ;  the  governor  of  the  castle ;  Lord 
Grosvenor  (as  "  colonel  of  the  militia"),  Lord  de  Tapley,  and 
others.  Stationing  soldiers  among  the  canons,  it  struck  us,  was 
well  enough  for  a  joke,  but  objectionable  as  part  of  a  display  of 
worshiping  the  God  of  Peace.* 

Half  way  between  these  elevated  seats  and  the  chancel  was 
the  reading  desk  and  pulpit,  and  on  each  side  of  this  the  choris- 
ters were  seated.  Several  persons  rose  to  offer  us  their  seats  as 
we  approached  them,  and  when  we  were  seated,  placed  prayer- 
books  before  us.  The  pews  were  all  furnished  with  foot-stools, 
or  hassocks  of  straw  rope,  made  up  hi  the  manner  of  a  straw  bee- 
hive. 

Much  of  the  service,  which  in  our  churches  is  read,  was  sung, 
or,  as  they  say,  intoned.  Intoning  is  what,  in  school-children,  is 
called  "  sing-song"  reading,  only  the  worst  kind,  or  an  exaggera- 
ted sing-song.  I  had  never  heard  it  before  in  religious  service, 
except  hi  a  mitigated  way  from  some  of  the  old-fashioned  Quaker 
and  Methodist  female  exhorters,  and  I  was  surprised  to  hear  it 
among  the  higher  class  of  English  clergy,  and  for  a  moment  per- 
plexed to  account  for  it.  But  I  remembered  that  nearly  all  men, 
in  reading  Scripture,  or  in  oral  prayer,  or  in  almost  any  public 
religious  exercises,  use  a  very  different  tone  and  mode  of  utter- 
ance from  that  which  is  usual  or  natural  with  them,  either  in 
conversation  or  in  ordinary  reading.  And  this  is  more  noticeable 
in  persons  of  uncultivated  minds ;  so  it  is  probably  an  impulse  to 

*  I  remember  when  I  was  a  child,  seeing  on  the  Sunday  preceding  the  first  Monday  in 
May — the  annual  training  day — in  one  of  the  most  old-fashioned  villages  in  Connecticut, 
the  officers  of  the  militia  come  into  the  meeting-house  in  their  uniforms.  The  leader  of 
the  choir  was  a  corporal,  and  the  red  stripes  on  his  pantaloons,  the  red  facings  and  bell- 
buttons  of  his  coat,  as  he  stood  up  alone  and  pitched  the  psalm  tunes,  was  impressed 
irretrievably  on  my  mind. 


INTONING  A  DEVOUT  EXPRESSION.  133 

distinguish  and  disassociate  religious  exercises  from  the  common 
duties  of  life,  that  induces  it.  The  effect  is,  that  the  reading  of 
the  Bible,  for  instance,  instead  of  being  a  study  of  truth,  or  an 
excitement  to  devotion  and  duty,  as  the  individual  may  intend, 
becomes  an  act  of  praise  or  prayer — the  real,  unconscious  pur- 
pose of  the  reader  finding  expression  in  his  tone  and  manner.  So 
we  may  often  hear  the  most  arrant  nonsense  in  oral  prayers ;  a 
stringing  together  of  scriptural  phrases  and  devout  words  in  con- 
fusing and  contradicting  sentences,  while  the  tone  and  gesture 
and  the  whole  manner  of  the  devotee  show  that  he  is  most  sin- 
cerely, feelingly,  enthusiastically  in  earnest  supplication.  What 
for  ?  Not  for  that  which  his  words  express,  for  they  may  express 
utter  blasphemy,  as  in  fact,  it  seems  to  me,  they  generally  do.  It 
is  simply  an  expression  or  manifestation  by  the  act  of  uttering 
words  in  a  supplicating  tone — of  the  sense  of  dependence  on  a 
superior  being — of  love,  of  gratitude,  and  of  reverence.  David 
did  the  same  thing  by  dancing  and  playing  upon  the  harp.  It  is 
done  now,  as  it  seems  to  us,  more  solemnly  in  playing  upon 
church  organs.  It  is  done  by  monuments,  and  in  the  decorations 
of  churches.  It  is  done  by  the  Catholics,  in  listening  and  respond- 
ing to  prayers  in  a  language  which  they  don't  pretend  to  under- 
stand, and  in  mechanically  repeating  others,  the  number  of  them 
counted  by  beads,  measuring  the  importance  or  intensity  of  their 
purpose.  It  is  done  by  abstaining  from  meat  on  Friday,  and  by 
confession  to  one  another,  in  the  form  prescribed  by  their  church 
government.  It  is  done  by  the  Japanese,  in  twirling  a  teetotum ; 
by  the  Chinese,  in  burning  Joss-sticks ;  by  the  Fakirs,  in  stand- 
ing on  one  leg ;  by  the  Methodists,  in  groans  and  inarticulate 
cries ;  by  the  Shakers,  in  their  dance ;  by  the  Baptists,  in  ice- 
water  immersions  ;  by  Churchmen,  in  kneeling ;  by  Presbyteri- 
ans, in  standing ;  by  New  Englanders,  in  eating  a  cold  dinner 
and  regularly  going  to  meeting  on  Sunday ;  by  the  English,  in 


134  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

feasting ;  and  the  Germans,  in  social  intercourse  on  that  day,  as 
well  as  by  more  distinctly  devout  exercises. 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  the  tone  of  the  reader  was  meant  to 
express — "  Note  ye  that  this  reading  is  no  common  reading,  but 
is  the  word  derived  from  God,  not  now  repeated  for  your  instruc- 
tion, plainly  and  with  its  time  emphasis,  but  markedly  otherwise, 
that  we  may  show  our  faith  in  its  sacred  character,  and  through 
it  acknowledge  our  God  ;  I  by  repeating  its  words,  as  men  do  not 
those  of  another  book — you  by  your  presence  and  reverent  silence 
while  I  do  so." 

It  was  evident,  too,  by  the  occasional  difficulties  and  consequent 
embarrassment  and  confusion  of  our  reader,  causing  blushing  and 
stammering,  that  it  was  not  with  him  a  natural  expression  of  this 
purpose,  as  was  the  nasal  tone  of  the  Puritan,  but  a  studied  form, 
which  had  originated  in  some  person  more  musically  constituted. 

Whether  I  was  right  with  regard  to  the  theory  or  not,  there 
was  no  room  for  doubt  that,  practically,  such  was  the  operation 
of  much  of  the  service.  The  portion  of  the  Old  Testament  read 
was  one  of  those  tedious  genealogical  registers  that  nobody  but 
an  antiquary  or  a  blood  nobleman  would  pretend  to  be  interested 
in.  The  psalm,  one  of  the  most  fearful  of  David's  songs  of 
vengeance  and  imprecation,  alternately  sung  by  the  choristers 
and  intoned  by  the  reader,  one  often  running  into  the  other  with 
most  unpleasant  discord.  The  same  with  the  Litany.  Even  the 
prayers  could  with  difficulty  be  understood,  owing  partly  to 
echoes,  in  which  all  distinctness  wa«  lost. 

Despairing  of  being  assisted  by  the  words  of  the  service,  I 
endeavored  to  "  work  up"  in  myself  the  solemnity  and  awe  which 
seemed  due  to  the  place  and  the  occasion,  by  appropriate  reflec- 
tions. Under  this  vaulted  ceiling,  what  holy  thoughts,  what 
heavenly  aspirations,  have  been  kindled — what  true  praise  of 
noble  resolution  has,  like  unconscious  incense,  grateful  to  God, 


THE  COMICALITIES  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL.  135 

ascended  from  these  seats !  On  these  venerable  walls,  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  have  the  eyes  of  good  men  rested,  as  from  their 
firm  and  untottering  consistency  they  gained  new  strength  and 
courage  to  fight  the  good  fight, — and  again  I  raised  my  eyes  to 
catch  communion  with  them.  They  fell  upon  a  most  infamous 
countenance,  like  to  the  representations  of  Falstaff's — a  man  with 
one  eye  closed  and  his  tongue  tucked  out  the  side  of  his  mouth — 
his  body  tied  up  in  a  sack,  his  knees  being  brought  upon  each 
side  of  his  chin  to  make  a  snugger  bundle.  I  turned  away  from 
it  immediately ;  but  there  was  another  face  in  doleful  grimace,  as 
if  a  man  who  had  been  buried  alive  had  suddenly  thrust  his  head 
out  of  his  coffin,  and  was  greatly  perplexed  and  dismayed  at  his 
situation.  Again  I  turned  my  eyes — they  fell  upon  the  face  of  a 
woman  under  the  influence  of  an  emetic ;  again,  upon  a  woman 
with  the  grin  of  drunkenness.  Everywhere  that  any  thing  like 
a  boss  would  be  appropriate  to  the  architecture,  were  faces  sculp- 
tured on  the  walls  that  would  be  capital  in  a  comic  almanac. 

I  closed  my  eyes  again,  and  tried  to  bring  my  mind  to  a  rev- 
erent mood,  but  the  more  I  tried  the  more  difficult  I  found  it. 
My  imagination  was  taken  possession  of  by  the  funny  things,  and 
refused  to  search  out  the  sublime.  Not  but  that  the  sublime,  the 
grand,  and  the  awful  were  not  apparent  also,  all  over  and  around 
— ay,  and  consciously  within  me ;  but,  like  a  stubborn  child,  my 
mind  would  resist  force.  I  gave  it  up,  envying  those  who  would 
have  been  so  naturally  elevated  by  all  these  incitements  and  aids 
to  devotion. 

I  could  not  understand  a  sentence  of  the  service,  but  sat,  and 
rose,  and  kneeled ;  thus  only  being  able  to  join  in  the  prayer,  and 
praise,  and  communion  of  the  congregation. 

Soon  my  thoughts,  now  wandering  freely,  fell  to  moving  in 
those  directions  of  reverie  that  I  have  found  they  are  apt  to  take 
when  I  am  hearing  what  those  who  listen  with  critical  ear  shall 


136  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

call  fine  music :  doubtless  it  is  the  best  and  truest  that  can  effect 
this.  I  had  been  wandering  in  a  deep,  sad  day-dream,  far  away, 
beyond  the  ocean — beyond  the  earth  .  .  .  dark — lost  to  remem- 
brance— when  I  was  of  a  sudden  brought  back  and  awakened 
again,  in  the  dun  old  cathedral,  with  such  emotion,  as  if  from 
eternity  and  infinity,  I  was  remanded  to  mysterious  identity  and 
sense  of  time,  that  I  choked  and  throbbed ;  and  then,  as  the 
richest,  deepest  melody  I  must  ever  have  heard  passed  away, 
softly  swelling  through  the  vaulted  ceiling,  caught  up  tenderly 
by  mild  echoes  in  the  nave,  and  again  and  again  faintly  returning 
from  its  deepest  distances,  I  kneeled  and  bowed  my  head  with 
the  worshipers  around  me,  acknowledging  in  all  my  heart  the 
beauty  and  sublimity  of  the  place  and  the  services. 

The  sermon  was  from  an  elderly  man,  with  a  voice  slightly 
broken,  and  an  impressive  manner,  whom  we  were  afterwards 
told  was  Canon  Slade,  a  somewhat  distinguished  divine.  It  was 
one  of  the  best,  plain,  practical,  Christ-like  discourses  I  ever 
heard  from  a  pulpit.  It  was  delivered  with  emphasis  and  anima- 
tion, in  a  natural,  sometimes  almost  conversational  tone,  directly 
to  individuals,  high  and  low,  then  and  there  present,  and  of 
course  was  listened  to  with  respectful  attention.  The  main  drift 
of  it  was  to  enforce  the  idea,  that  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  of 
God  was  never  to  be  arrived  at  by  mere  learning  and  dry  study ; 
that  these  were  sometimes  rather  encumbrances ;  that  love  was 
of  more  value  than  learning.  He  had  been  describing  the  Phari- 
sees of  old,  and  concluded  by  saying,  that  the  Pharisees,  satisfied 
with  their  own  notions,  and  scorning  new  light,  were  not  scarce 
in  our  day.  "  There  are  some  of  them  in  our  Church  of  England : 
would  that  there  were  fewer ;  that  there  were  less  parade  and 
more  reality  of  heavenly  knowledge."  He  made  but  little  use 
of  his  notes,  and  pronounced  an  extemporaneous  prayer  at  the 
conclusion  with  extreme  solemnity. 


COMMUNION  SER  VICE.  137 

I  remained  in  company  with  a  large  proportion  of  the  women 
present,  and  half  a  dozen  men,  at  the  communion  service.  The 
Church  of  England  service,  which  has  always  seemed  to  me  more 
effective  than  most  others  to  the  practical  end  of  the  ceremony, 
never  was  so  solemn,  impressive,  and  affecting.  It  was  adminis- 
tered by  the  bishop,  unassisted,  with  great  feeling  and  simplicity. 
There  was  not  the  least  unnecessary  parade  or  affectation  of 
sanctity ;  but  a  low,  earnest  voice,  and  a  quiet,  unprofessional 
manner,  that  betokened  a  sense  of  the  common  brotherhood  of  us 
all  "  united  by  God  in  Christ."  The  singing  was  "  congregation- 
al," the  choristers  having  left,  and  without  assistance  from  the 
organ. 

A  considerable  proportion  of  the  congregation  were  servants 
in  livery ;  and  besides  these  and  the  soldiers  and  clergy,  the  men 
present  were  generally  plainly,  and  many  shabbily,  dressed.  The 
women,  many  of  them,  seemed  of  a  higher  class,  but  were  also 
simply  dressed,  generally  in  dark  calicoes. 

In  the  south  transept  (or  short  arm  of  the  cross)  of  the  cathe- 
dral another  congregation  were  assembling  as  I  came  out.  I 
followed  in  a  company  of  boys,  marching  like  soldiers,  dressed  in 
long-skirted  blue  coats,  long  waistcoats,  breeches,  and  stockings, 
and  with  the  clerical  bands  from  their  cravats.  Within  were 
several  other  such  companies — boys  and  girls  in  uniform,  from 
charity  schools,  I  suppose.  The  girls  were  dressed  in  the  fashion 
of  Goody  Two-Shoes,  with  high-backed  white  caps,  and  white 
"pinafores"  over  blue  check  gowns. 

This  transept  is  a  large  place  of  worship  in  itself,  though  but  a 
small  part  of  the  cathedral,  and  is  occupied  by  the  parish  of  St. 
Oswald — morning  and  evening  service  being  held  in  it  immedi- 
ately after  that  of  the  cathedral  church.  On  the  doors  were 
notices,  posted  in  placards,  addressed  to  persons  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances— among  others,  to  all  who  used  hair-powder — to  give 


138          .       AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

notice  to  the  appointed  officers,  that  they  might  be  rightfully- 
taxed. 

In  the  afternoon  we  visited  a  Sunday-school  of  the  Unitarians, 
where  we  saw  about  sixty  well-behaved  children — the  exercises 
much  the  same  as  in  ours.  Afterwards  we  heard  a  sensible  ser- 
mon in  the  Independent  chapel.  The  clergyman,  who  has  been 
a  missionary  in  the  East,  and  has  also  traveled  in  America,  was 
good  enough  to  call  on  us  and  invite  us  to  his  house  the  next  day. 
The  congregation  seemed  to  be  of  a  higher  grade  than  most  of 
that  we  had  seen  at  the  cathedral — more  intelligent  and  anima- 
ted, and  more  carefully  dressed,  yet  very  much  plainer,  more 
modestly  and  becomingly,  and  far  less  expensively,  than  you 
could  often  see  any  congregation  with  us. 

We  had  a  delightful  walk,  later  in  the  afternoon,  on  the  walls, 
where  we  met  a  very  large  number  of  apparently  very  happy 
people.  I  never  saw  so  many  neat,  quiet,  ungenteel,  happy,  and 
healthy-looking  women,  all  in  plain  clean  dresses,  and  conversing 
in  mild,  pleasant  tones ;  hundreds  of  children,  too,  dressed  ridicu- 
lously bright  and  clean  and  stiff,  not  a  dirty  one  among  them, 
and  as  well  behaved  as  dolls,  comically  sober  and  stately.  The 
walls  form  a  good  promenade,  elevated  and  dry.  The  landscape 
view  across  the  river,  in  the  sunset  haze,  seemed  in  communion 
with  the  minds  of  the  people,  tranquil  and  loving.  An  hour 
later,  and  we  found  the  streets  lighted  up  and  almost  as  crowded 
as  on  Saturday  night,  yet  very  quiet,  and  no  impudence,  black- 
guardism, or  indecency.  On  the  whole,  spite  of  the  universal 
beer-drinking,  we  obtained  a  high  opinion  of  the  character  of 
Chester  people,  quite  as  high  in  respect  to  morality  and  courtesy 
at  least,  as  a  stranger  passing  a  Sunday  in  a  New  England  town 
of  the  same  size  would  be  likely  to  form  of  its  inhabitants. 


CLANDESTINE  ARCHITECTURAL  STUDIES.  139 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Clandestine  Architectural  Studies — A  Visit  to  the  Marquis  of  Westminster's 
Stud  —  Stable  Matters. 

Monday,  June  Bd. 

"PARLY  in  the  morning  we  visited  the  old  church  of  St.  John's, 
•*"••  and  afterwards  several  curious  places,  relics  of  Romans, 
Saxons,  and  Normans,  in  the  suburbs — after  all,  nothing  so  in- 
teresting to  me  as  the  commonest  relics  of  Englishmen  but  two 
or  three  centuries  old.  As  we  returned  through  the  town  at 
seven,  the  early  risers  seemed  to  be  just  getting  up.  Passing  the 
cathedral  as  the  bell  tolled  for  morning  prayer,  we  turned  in. 
There  are  services  every  day  at  7,  11,  and  3  o'clock.  The 
service  was  performed  in  the  Lady  Chapel,  which  we  did  not 
enter.  The  attendance  must  have  been  rather  meagre,  as  we 
saw  no  one  going  to  it  but  two  ladies  with  an  old  man-servant. 
We  remained  some  time  hunting  on  tip-toe  for  traces  of  the 
"Norman  transition"  in  the  architecture,  and  found  we  had  had 
already  practice  enough  to  readily  detect  it  in  various  parts. 
Stealing  softly  into  the  choir,  from  which  the  Lady  Chapel  opens, 
we  examined  the  bishop's  throne.  It  is  adorned  with  many 
figures  of  saints  and  angels,  kings  and  queens,  and  having  been 
once  broken  to  pieces,  in  the  repairs  upon  it  the  old  heads  were 
generally  put  on  young  shoulders,  and  vice  versa,  producing  in 


140  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

some  instances  a  very  ludicrous  effect,  particularly  where  the 
men's  heads,  beards  and  all,  are  set  on  female  bodies.  We  then 
got  out  into  the  cloisters,  and  from  them  into  the  chapter-house, 
in  which  heavy-groined  arches,  simple,  and  without  the  slightest 
ornament,  have  a  fine  effect.  The  date  is  about  1190.  We  saw 
here  some  very  strongly  marked  faces  which,  in  stone,  represent 
certain  Norman  abbots  whose  graves  were  under  us. 

Without  the  cathedral  yard,  the  ruins  of  the  old  abbey  appear 
frequently  among  the  houses — the  old  black  oak  timber  and  brick 
work  of  the  time  of  Cromwell,  mingling  picturesquely  with  the 
water-worn  carvings  of  the  older,  old  masonry.  This  morning 
we  saw  a  stout,  round,  old  Saxon  arch  giving  protection  to  a  fire- 
engine,  which  brought  to  mind  the  improbability  of  the  present 
race  of  New  Yorkers  sending  down  to  posterity  such  memorials 
of  itself.  Well,  it  will  send  better  perhaps,  and  more  lasting 
than  stones — or  stocks. 

On  the  town-hall  is  a  large  statue,  said  to  be  of  Queen  Anne, 
but  so  battered  and  chipped,  that  it  might  stand  for  anybody  else, 
in  a  long  dress.  The  hands  and  nose,  and  all  the  regalia,  are 
knocked  off.  And  how,  do  you  suppose  ?  By  the  super-sovereign. 
people  in  election  demonstrations.  Thank  God,  we  may  yet  boast 
that,  in  our  thoroughly  democratic  elections,  where  the  whole 
national  policy  is  turning,  and  the  most  important  private  and 
local  interests  are  at  issue,  we  leave  no  such  memorials  of  our 
tune.  (I  beg  pardon  of  the  "  bloody  Sixth.") 

Going  into  a  book-shop  for  a  direction,  we  saw  Emerson's 
"  Representative  Men,"  and  Irving's  "  Sketch  Book,"  on  the 
counter,  with  newspapers  and  railway  guides,  and  the  proprietor 
told  us  he  had  sold  many  of  them. 

We  passed  through  a  crockery  shop  to  see  a  Roman  bath, 
which  had  been  discovered  in  excavating  a  cellar  in  the  rear  of 
it.  Such  things  are  every  year  turning  up. 


THE  EATON  STUD.  141 


After  breakfast  we  once  more  took  our  knapsacks,  and  left 
Chester  by  the  foot-path  on  the  bank  of  the  Dee. 

The  Marquis  of  Westminster  owns  some  of  the  finest  horses 
in  the  kingdom :  in  passing  through  Eccleston,  we  asked  a  man 
if  he  could  direct  us  where  we  could  see  some  of  them.     He  in- 
formed us  that  he  was  himself  head  groom  of  the  stud,  and  would 
take  pleasure  in  showing  it  to  us.     He  took  us  first  to  "  the  pad- 
docks," which  are  fields  of  from  two  to  five  acres,  enclosed  by 
stone  walls,  ten  feet  high,  some  of  them  with  sheds  and  stables 
attached,  and  some  without.     In  these  were  thirty  or  forty  of  the 
highest  bred  and  most  valuable  mares  and  fillies  in  the  world. 
Unfortunately  I  am  not  a  horse-maw,  and  cannot  attempt  to  de- 
scribe them  particularly.     It  needed  but  a  glance,  however,  to 
show  us  that  they  were  almost  any  of  them  the  most  beautiful 
animals  we  had  ever  seen.     The  groom,  whose  name  is  Nutting, 
and  whose  acquaintance  I  recommend  every  traveler  this  way  to 
endeavor  to  make,  was  exceedingly  obliging,  not  only  taking  us 
into  every  paddock  and  stable,  and  giving  us  an  account  of  the 
pedigree,  history,  and  performances  of  every  horse,  but  calling 
our  attention  to  his  u  points,"  all  the  peculiarities  of  form  which 
distinguished  each  individual.    It  was  evident  his  heart  was  in  his 
business,  and  that  his  regard  was  appreciated,  for  as  soon  as  he 
unlocked  the  gate  and  showed  himself  within  the  enclosure,  some 
of  the  older  mares  would  trot  up  to  be  caressed  with  the  most 
animated,  intelligent,  and  gratified  expression.     The  most  cele- 
brated among  them  was  Beds-wing.     She  is  seventeen  years  old, 
and  very  large,  but  perfect  in  form ;  I  should  think  better  than 
her  daughter,  Queen-Bee,  who  is  lighter  and  more  delicate.    The 
extraordinary  beauty  of  "  Ghuznee"  and  "  Crucifix,"  both  dis- 
tinguished on  the  turf,  was  also  obvious.     These,  I  think,  do  not 
belong  to  the  Marquis.     In  one  of  the  paddocks  were  a  number 
of  foals,  pretty,  agile,  fawn-like  creatures.     They  came  around 


142  ^V  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAND. 

us  dancing  and  capering,  catching  our  knapsacks  with  their  teeth, 
then  springing  off  and  coming  back  again,  like  dogs  at  play.  The 
mares,  fillies,  and  colts  were  all  of  dark  bay  color  but  one,  which 
was  dark  iron-grey,  nearly  black. 

Just  as  we  left  the  colts,  a  great  cart-horse,  belonging  to  the 
Marquis,  was  passing  on  the  road.  The  contrast  was  striking. 
He  was  seventeen  hands  and  one  inch  high  (within  a  trifle,  six 
feet),  and  putting  both  my  thumbs  to  the  smallest  part  of  his  leg, 
I  could  not  make  my  fingers  meet  around  it. 

From  the  paddocks  we  went  to  the  stables  to  see  the  stallions. 
They  were  all  loose  boxes  (no  stalls),  thirteen  feet  by  sixteen, 
some  with  rack  and  manger  across  the  side,  some  with  the  same 
in  a  corner.  Touchstone  is  a  magnificent  creature.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  imagine  higher  condition,  indicated  not  less  in  the  happy 
and  spirited  expression  and  action,  than  in  the  bright,  smooth, 
supple,  and  elastic  feel  of  his  skin.  I  never  saw  any  tiling  to 
equal  it ;  and  it  was  nearly  as  remarkable  in  the  mares.  Five 
thousand  guineas  (over  $25,000)  have  been  offered  and  refused 
for  Touchstone.  Springy-Jack  is  a  younger  stallion ;  by  Nutting 
esteemed  even  higher  than  Touchstone.  Nothing  in  the  world 
of  animal  life  can  be  finer  than  the  muscular  development  of  his 
neck.  Touchstone  is  thought  a  little  coarse  in  the  withers.  They 
were  intending  to  put  him  in  pasture  the  next  week,  and  in  pre- 
paration for  it,  he  had  some  fresh  grass  mixed  with  hay  to  eat. 
He  stood  in  a  deep  bed  of  straw,  and  was  not  curried — groomed 
merely  with  a  cloth — yet  he  was  so  clean  that  it  would  not  have 
soiled  a  white  linen  handkerchief  to  have  rubbed  it  upon  him. 

In  the  granary  we  saw  some  very  plump  and  bright  Scotch 
oats ;  they  were  bought  for  42  Ibs.  to  the  bushel,  but  would  over- 
weigh  that.  The  common  feed  was  oat  and  bean  meal,  mixed 
with  cut  hay.  The  hay  was  cut  very  fine  (not  more  than  |-  inch 
lengths)  by  a  hand  machine.  I  believe,  cut  as  it  usually  is  by 


DUTCH  BARNS.  143 


our  machines  (£  inch  to  1  inch),  it  is  more  thoroughly  digested. 
I  use  Sinclair's,  of  Baltimore,  which  is  intended  for  cornstalks, 
driven  by  horse-power,  and  cuts  hay  and  straw  from  one  to  three 
inches,  which  I  prefer  to  the  finer.*  The  machine  here  cost  £6 
($30),  and  was  in  no  way  superior,  that  I  could  see,  to  Ruggles's, 
of  Boston,  which  is  sold  at  half  that  price. 

The  farm  buildings  were  not  fine  or  in  good  order ;  manure 
wasting,  old  carts  and  broken  implements  thrown  carelessly  about, 
and  nothing  neat.  Nor  were  the  cattle  remarkable — most  of 
them  below  the  average  that  we  have  seen  on  the  road-side.  It 
is  evident  that  the  Marquis  is  more  of  a  horse-jockey  than  a 
farmer. 

The  groom's  house,  which  we  entered,  was  very  neat  and 
handsomely  built  of  stone.  All  the  cottages  hereabout  are 
floored  with  tiles,  nine  inches  square. 

Nutting  showed  us  a  cow  of  his  own,  which  I  took  to  be  a 
direct  cross  of  Devon  and  Ayrshire,  and  which  had  as  fine  points 
for  a  milker  as  I  ever  saw.  She  was  very  large,  red  and  white, 
and  a  good  feeler.  He  assured  us  that  she  was  giving  now  on 
pasture  feed  thirty-two  quarts  a  day. 

The  hay  was  partly  stored  under  slate  roofs,  supported  by  four 
strong  stone  columns,  the  sides  open.  This  plan  differs  from  the 
hay  "  barracks,"  common  where  the  Dutch  settled  in  America,  in 
which  the  roof,  thatched  or  boarded,  is  attached  to  posts  in  such 
a  way  that  it  can  be  easily  set  up  or  down,  and  adjusted  to  the 
quantity  of  hay  under  it.  These  erections  are  here  called  Dutch 
barns.  Nutting  thought  hay  was  preserved  in  them  better  than 
in  any  way  he  knew,  and  this  has  been  my  opinion  of  that  from 


*  I  do  not  wish  to  recommend  this  machine  for  hay  and  straw,  which  it  does  not  cut 
as  rapidly  as  some  others,  but  for  stalks  it  cannot  be  surpassed— cutting  and  splitting 
them  in  small  dice. 


144  Ay  AXERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

our  barracks.  Close  barns  he  particularly  objected  to.  Proba- 
bly hay  suffers  more  in  them  here  than  it  does  in  America. 

Alter  showing  us  all  about  the  farmery,  he  walked  on  with  us 
to  a  shady  pasture  by  the  river  side,  where  was  a  herd  of  fine 
mares.  We  sat  here  under  an  old  elm  for  some  time,  looking  at 
them  as  they  clustered  around  us,  and  talking  with  him  about  the 
agriculture  of  the  district  He  was  so  easily  good-natured,  and 
conversed  so  freely,  asking  as  well  as  answering  questions,  that 
we  were  greatly  puzzled  to  tell  whether  he  expected  a  fee,  or 
would  be  offended  by  our  offering  it.  At  length,  when  he  was 
about  to  leave,  we  frankly  stated  our  difficulty,  explaining  that 
we  were  foreigners,  and  not  familiar  with  the  English  customs. 
He  answered  pleasantly,  that  he  was  always  glad  of  a  chance  to 
converse  with  gentlemen  on  such  subjects  as  we  appeared  to  be 
interested  in ;  if  they  liked  to  give  him  something  he  did  not 
refuse  it.  but  he  did  not  wish  any  thing  from  us.  We  assured 
him  that  we  were  much  indebted  to  him,  handing  him  a  half 
crown,  which  he  dropped  into  his  pocket  without  thanking  us, 
but  politely  replying  that  he  considered  himself  fortunate  in 
having  met  us.  He  then  said  he  would  walk  on  a  little  further, 
to  direct  us  on  a  path  much  pleasanter  than  the  regular  travel, 
and  from  which  we  might  see  one  of  the  best  dairy  farms  in  the 
country,  with  an  excellent  herd  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  cows. 
The  path  would  run  through  the  park,  and  was  not  public,  but  if 
we  would  mention  his  name  at  the  lodges  they  would  let  us  pass. 

We  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  cows.  They  were  large,  half- 
bred  Ayrshires,  which  seem  to  be  the  favorite  dairy  stock 
throughout  the  county.  Pure  bred  stock  of  any  breed  is  not  hi 
favor,  but  the  Ayrshire  blood  is  most  valued. 


SOIL  AND  CLIMATE  IN  CHEESE-MAKING.  145 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Cheshire  Cheese  District  and  English  Husbandry  upon  Heavy  Soils  — 
Pastures ;  their  permanence  —  The  use  of  Bones  as  a  Manure  in  Cheshire 
—  A  Valuable  Remark  to  Owners  of  Improved  Neat  Stock — Breeds  of 
Dairy  Stock  —  Horses. 

HHHE  soil  of  a  considerable  part  of  this  county  being  a  tenacious 
•*•  clay,  favorable  to  the  growth  of  grasses,  and  difficult  of  tillage, 
its  inhabitants  are  naturally  dairy-men,  and  it  has  been  particu- 
larly distinguished  for  many  centuries  for  its  manufacture  of 
cheese.  Its  distinction  in  this  respect  does  not  appear  to  be  the 
result  of  remarkable  skill  or  peculiar  dairy  processes,  but  is  pro- 
bably due  to  the  particular  varieties  of  herbage,  to  the  natural 
production  of  which,  the  properties  of  its  soil,  and  perhaps  of  its 
climate,  are  peculiarly  favorable.* 

The  grounds  for  this  conclusion  are  the  general  value  placed 
by  the  farmers  upon  their  old  pastures,  where  the  natural  assort- 
ment of  herbage  may  be  considered  to  have  entirely  obtained  and 
taken  the  place  of  the  limited  number  of  varieties  which  are  arti- 

*  The  best  cheese  is  made  on  cold,  stiff,  clay  soils  (but  not  on  the  purest  clays),  and 
from  the  most  natural  herbage,  even  from  weedy,  sterile  pastures ;  but  much  the  largest 
quantity  is  made  from  an  equal  extent  of  more  moderately  tenacious  and  drained  or  per- 
meable soils,  spontaneously  producing  close,  luxuriant,  fine  (not  rank)  grasses  and  white 
clover. 

10 


146  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  L\'  ENGLAND. 

ficially  sowed ;  the  fact  that  the  butter  of  the  district  is  not,  as  a 
general  rule,  highly  esteemed ;  and  that  I  cannot  learn  that  the 
process  of  cheese-making  differs  any  more  from  that  of  other 
districts  in  England  or  the  United  States,  than  between  different 
dairies  producing  cheese  of  equal  value,  in  this  district  itself. 

It  is  by  no  means  to  be  inferred,  however,  that  the  quality  of 
cheese  is  not  affected  by  the  process  of  manufacture.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  the  skill  and  nicety  of  a  superior  dairy-maid  will 
produce  cheese  of  a  superior  quality,  on  a  farm  of  poor  herbage, 
while  an  ignorant  and  careless  one  will  make  only  an  inferior 
description,  no  matter  what  the  natural  advantages  may  be.  The 
best  cheese  made  in  the  United  States  is  quite  equal  to  the  best 
I  have  tasted  here,  but  the  average  quality  is  by  no  means  equal 
to  the  average  quality  of  Cheshire  cheese. 

Superiority  in  the  manufacture  seems  not  to  depend,  however, 
upon  any  describable  peculiarities  of  the  process,  which  differs  in 
no  essential  particular  from  that  common  in  our  dairies.  Excel- 
lence is  well  understood  to  depend  greatly  upon  extreme  clean- 
liness in  all  the  implements  employed,  and  upon  the  purity  and 
moderate  temperature  of  the  atmosphere.  Means  to  secure  the 
latter  are  used  much  the  same  as  with  us.  Stoves  and  hot-water 
pipes  are  sometimes  employed  in  the  cheese-room,  and  where  this 
is  in  a  detached  building  of  one  story,  it  is  considered  essential 
that  it  should  have  a  thatched  roof.  In  some  cases  where  the 
roof  has  been  slated,  it  has  been  found  necessary  in  the  warmest 
weather  to  remove  the  cheese  to  the  cellar  of  the  farm-house. 
Plank  shelves  are  more  generally  used,  and  are  esteemed  better 
than  stone. 

Not  only  is  there  no  uniformity  in  the  methods  of  the  different 
dairies,  to  distinguish  them  from  those  of  the  United  States,  but 
rarely  in  any  single  dairy  are  there  any  exact  rules  with  regard 
to  the  time  to  be  employed  in  any  parts  of  the  process,  or  as  to  the 


THE  CHEESE-MAKING  PROCESS.  147 

temperature  or  the  measure  of  any  ingredients.  Thus  the  degree 
of  heat  at  setting  the  milk,  although  the  skill  to  feel  when  it  is 
right  is  deemed  highly  important,  is  almost  never  measured,  even 
in  the  best  dairies.  The  quantity  of  rennet  is  guessed  at,  and  its 
strength  not  exactly  known.  The  quantity  of  salt  used  is  unde- 
fined, and  the  time  of  sweating  or  curing  of  cheese,  when  made, 
is  left  to  accident. 

With  regard  to  some  of  these  points,  however,  it  has  been 
found  (as  reported  to  the  Royal  Agricultural  Society)  that  in 
some  of  the  best  dairies,  the  milk,  when  judged  to  be  of  the  right 
temperature  for  coagulating,  was  by  the  thermometer  at  82°  F. 
(variations  from  76°  to  88°).  From  four  to  sixteen  square 
inches  of  rennet  skin  in  a  pint  of  water  (generally  four  square 
inches),  were  used  to  make  the  cheese  from  fifty  gallons  of  milk, 
and  1  Ib.  to  1  Ib.  4  ounces  salt  to  the  same  quantity.  It  is 
thought  that  the  best  cheese  is  made  with  less  salt  than  this. 
The  heat  of  the  milk-room  was  found  to  vary  from  64°  to  78°  in 
August,  and  it  was  thought  desirable  that  it  should  be  cooler  than 
this.  The  reporter  thought  that  a  temperature  of  50°  would  be 
most  approved  throughout  the  year.  I  never  heard  of  ice  being 
used  in  any  way  in  a  Cheshire  dairy. 

Some  of  the  best  dairy-maids  claim  to  have  "secrets"  by  which 
they  are  enabled  to  surpass  others  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  they  do 
not  lessen  the  necessity  for  extreme  cleanliness,  nicety,  and  close 
observation  and  judgment,  and  that  with  this,  in  addition  to  what 
is  everywhere  known  and  practiced,  there  is  no  mystery  neces- 
sary to  produce  the  best.* 

*  "  A  cheese  dairy  is  a  manufactory— a  workshop— and  is,  in  truth,  a  place  of  hard 
work.  That  studied  outward  neatness,  which  is  to  be  seen  in  the  show  dairies  of  differ- 
ent districts,  may  be  in  character  where  butter  is  the  only  object,  but  would  be  superflu- 
ous in  a  cheese  dairy.  If  the  room,  the  utensils,  the  dairy-woman  and  her  assistants  be 
sufficiently  clean  to  give  perfect  sweetness  to  the  produce,  no  matter  for  the  color  or  the 
arrangement.  The  scouring-wisp  gives  an  outward  fairness,  but  is  frequently  an  enemy 


148  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

The  Cheshire  cheese  in  market  always  has  an  unnaturally 
deep  yellow  color,  though  of  late  less  so  than  formerly.  It  is 
given  by  the  addition  of  "coloring"  to  the  milk,  immediately 
before  the  rennet  steep  is  applied.  This  "  coloring"  is  manufac- 
tured and  sold  at  the  shops  for  the  purpose.  It  is  an  imitation 
of  annatto,  formed  chiefly  of  a  small  quantity  of  real  anuatto, 
mixed  with  tumeric  and  soft  soap.  I  think  it  is  never  used  in 
sufficient  quantity  to  affect  the  flavor  at  all ;  but  I  observe  that 
the  farmers  and  people  in  the  county  prefer  cheese  for  their  own 
use  that  is  not  colored. 

Whey  Butter. — It  is  common  in  Cheshire  to  make  butter  from 
the  whey.  It  will  probably  surprise  many  to  learn  that  there  is 
any  cream  left  in  whey ;  but  there  undoubtedly  is,  and  it  may  be 
extracted  by  the  same  means  as  from  milk.  The  only  difference 
in  the  process  is,  that  it  is  set  in  large  tubs  instead  of  small  pans, 
and  that  the  whey  is  drawn  off  by  a  faucet  from  the  bottom  after 
the  cream  has  risen.  If  allowed  to  remain  too  long  it  will  give  a 
disagreeable  flavor  to  the  cream.  One  hundred  gallons  of  milk 
will  give  ninety  of  whey,  which  will  give  ten  or  twelve  gallons 
of  cream,  which  will  make  three  or  four  pounds  of  butter.  So 
that  besides  the  cheese,  twenty  to  twenty-five  pounds  of  butter 
are  made  in  a  year  from  the  milk  of  each  cow — an  item  of  some 
value  in  a  large  dairy.  The  butter  is  of  second-rate  quality,  but 
not  bad — worth  perhaps  three  cents  a  pound  less  than  milk 
butter. 

The  farms  in  the  country  over  which  we  walked  in  Cheshire 
were  generally  small — less,  I  should  think,  than  one  hundred 
acres.  Frequently  the  farmer's  family  supplied  all  the  labor 

to  real  cleanliness.'' — MARSHALL'S  VALE  OP  GLOUCESTER.  Besides  the  means  of  securing 
this  inner  cleanliness,  sweetness,  and  purity,  which  must  be  of  the  air  too,  as  well  as  of 
the  utensils,  etc.,  it  is  probable  that  the  dairy-maids'  secrets  are  in  a  knowledge  of  the 
best  temperature,  particularly  of  that  at  which  the  milk  should  be  curdled. 


MILKING  — PASTURES  — BONES.  149 

upon  them — himself  and  his  sons  in  the  field,  and  his  wife  and 
daughters  in  the  dairy — except  that  in  the  harvest  month  one  or 
two  Irish  reapers  would  be  employed.  The  cows,  in  the  summer, 
are  kept  during  the  day  in  distant  pastures,  and  always  at  night 
in  a  home  lot.  During  the  cheese-making  season,  which  on  these 
small  farms  is  from  the  first  of  May  till  November,  they  are 
driven  home  and  fastened  in  shippens,  or  sheds,  between  five  and 
six  o'clock,  morning  and  night,  and  then  milked  by  the  girls, 
sometimes  assisted  by  the  men.  On  a  farm  of  one  hundred  acres, 
fifteen  to  twenty  cows  are  kept,  and  three  persons  are  about  an 
hour  in  milking  them.  From  twenty  to  thirty  gallons  of  milk 
(say  six  quarts  from  each  cow)  is  expected  to  be  obtained  on  an 
average,  and  about  one  pound  of  dried  cheese  from  a  gallon  of 
milk.  From  two  to  five  cwt.  (of  112  Ibs.)  of  cheese  may  be 
made  from  the  milk  of  each  cow  during  the  year.  Three  cwt.  is 
thought  a  fair  return  on  the  best  farms.  In  a  moderately  dry 
and  temperate  summer,  more  cheese  is  made  than  in  one  which 
is  very  wet. 

The  pastures  are  generally  looked  upon  as  permanent ;  the 
night  pastures  are  sometimes  absolutely  so,  as  it  is  supposed  that 
they  have  not  generally  been  broken  up  for  many  hundred  years. 
During  the  last  ten  years  the  pasture  lands  have  been  very 
greatly,  and,  as  they  tell  me,  almost  incredibly  improved  by  the 
use  of  bone-dust.  It  is  applied  in  the  quantity  of  from  twenty  to 
forty  cwt.  on  an  acre,  as  top-dressing ;  and  I  was  told  that  pas- 
tures on  which  it  had  been  applied  at  the  rate  of  a  ton  to  an  acre, 
eight  or  nine  years  ago,  had  continued  as  good  (or  able  on  an 
average  of  the  years  to  bear  as  many  cows)  as  similar  land  top- 
dressed  with  farm-yard  dung  every  two  years,  probably  at  the 
rate  of  thirty  cubic  yards  to  an  acre.  There  seems  to  be  no 
doubt  at  all  that  lands,  to  which  inch  bones  were  applied  ten 
years  ago,  are  yet  much  the  better  for  it.  They  are  usually 


150  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

applied  in  April,  and  the  ground  is  lightly  pastured,  or  perhaps 
not  at  all,  until  the  following  year.  The  effect,  the  farmers  say, 
is  not  merely  to  make  the  growth  stronger,  but  to  make  it  sweet- 
er ;  the  cattle  will  even  eat  the  weeds,  which  before  they  would 
not  taste  of.  However,  in  poor  land  especially,  it  is  found  to 
encourage  the  growth  of  the  more  valuable  grasses  more  than 
that  of  the  weeds ;  so  that  the  latter  are  crowded  out,  and  a  clean, 
thick,  close  turf  is  formed.  If  the  ground  has  been  drained,  all 
these  improvements  are  much  accelerated  and  increased.  Upon 
newly  laid  down  lands,  however,  the  effect  is  not  so  great ;  it  is 
especially  on  old  pastures  (from  which  the  extraction  of  the 
phosphates  in  the  milk  has  been  going  on  for  ages  sometimes, 
uninterruptedly)  that  the  improvement  is  most  magical.  The 
productive  value  of  such  lands  is  very  frequently  known  to  have 
been  doubled  by  the  first  dressing  of  bones. 

Both  boiled  and  raw  bones  are  used,  and  though  there  is  a 
general  belief  that  the  latter  are  more  valuable,  I  do  not  hear  of 
any  experience  that  has  shown  it ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  told  of 
one  field  which  was  dressed  on  different  sides  equally  with  each 
sort,  and  now,  several  years  after,  no  difference  has  been  observed 
in  their  effect.  A  comparison  must,  of  course,  be  made  by  meas- 
ure, as  boiled  bones  are  generally  bought  wet,  and  overweigh 
equal  bulks  of  raw  about  25  per  cent.  Dry  bone-dust  weighs 
from  45  to  50  Ibs.  to  a  bushel. 

I  have  not  heard  of  super-phosphate  of  lime,  or  bones  dissolved 
in  sulphuric  acid,  being  used  as  a  top-dressing  for  pastures. 

I  quote  the  following  from  the  journal  of  the  Royal  Agricul- 
tural Society,  as  a  mark  of  deep  significance  to  American  farmers, 
beyond  its  proof  of  the  value  of  bones :  —  "  Before  bones  came 
into  use  in  this  country,  the  farmers  made  a  point  of  selecting  a 
hardy  and  inferior  description  of  stock  for  their  clay  lands,  farm- 
ers finding  that  large,  well-bred  cows  did  not  at  all  answer  upon 


BIPRO  VED  DAIR  Y  STOCK.  151 

them;  but  now  they  find"  (in  improved  pasture)  "that  the  best 
of  stock  find  ample  support,  not  only  to  supply  the  cheese-tub 
freely,  but  also  to  do  justice  to  their  lineage,  by  retaining,  if  not 
improving,  their  size  and  symmetry ;  so  that  the  farmer  has  not 
only  the  advantage  of  making  considerably  more  cheese,  but  also 
of  making  more  money  by  his  turn  of  stock." 

I  cannot  now  ascertain  the  amount  of  bones  annually  exported 
from  the  United  States  to  England,  but  it  must  be  very  great,  as 
I  know  one  bone-miller,  near  New  York,  that  has  a  standing 
order  to  ship  all  he  can  furnish  at  a  certain  price,  and  who  last 
year  thus  disposed  of  80,000  bushels. 

Breeds  of  Dairy  Stock. — I  have  already  described  most  of  the 
dairy  stock  that  we  have  observed  along  the  road.  We  have 
seen  scarcely  any  pure  bred  stock  of  any  kind.  Ayrshire  blood 
seems  to  predominate  and  be  most  in  favor  on  the  best  farms. 
The  points  of  the  short-horns  are  also  common,  and  in  the  south 
we  saw  some  Herefords.  The  best  milkers  seemed  to  be  a  mixed 
blood  of  Ayrshires,  and  some  other  large  and  long-horned  cattle, 
with  a  smaller  red  and  black  breed,  probably  Welsh.  I  incline 
to  think  that  experience  has  taught  the  dairy-men  to  prefer  half 
or  quarter  bred  stock  to  full  bloods  of  any  breed.  For  beef- 
making  it  is  otherwise.  I  have  seen  no  working  oxen.  Horses 
are  the  only  beasts  of  draught  on  the  farms ;  they  vary  greatly 
in  quality,  but  are  generally  stout,  heavy,  hardy,  and  very  pow- 
erful. On  a  farm  of  one  hundred  acres,  three  will  be  kept, 
sometimes  four,  and  at  about  that  rate  on  the  larger  farms,  with 
an  additional  saddle-horse  or  two  for  his  own  use,  if  the  farmer 
can  afford  it.  Farmers  generally  raise  their  own  cows,  choosing 
heifer  calves  from  their  best  milker  for  the  purpose.  Cattle  are 
not  commonly  reared  for  sale  here.  Few  sheep  are  raised ;  but 
many  are  brought  lean  from  Wales  and  Ireland,  and  fatted  here. 


152  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Tillage  — Size  of  Farms  —  Condition  of  Laborers  —  Fences  —  Hedges  — 
Surface  Drainage  —  Under  Drainage — Valuable  Implements  for  Stiff 
Soils,  not  used  in  the  United  States. 

T  SHOULD  think  that  more  than  three-quarters  of  the  land 
•*•  we  have  seen  is  in  grass  and  pasture.  I  suppose  that  it  would 
be  more  productive  of  human  food,  and  support  a  much  larger 
population,  if  it  were  cultivated ;  but  the  fanners  being  generally 
men  of  small  means,  barely  making  a  living,  are  indisposed  to 
take  the  trouble  to  break  up  and  till  the  tough  sward  and  stiff 
soil,  from  which,  while  it  is  in  pasture,  they  are  always  sure  to 
realize  a  certain  product  of  cheese  without  any  severe  labor.  The 
cultivation  is  not,  either,  very  thorough,  because  the  strongest  and 
most  efficient  implements  and  great  brute  forces  are  needed  to 
effectually  act  upon  such  a  soil.  Accordingly  we  have  observed 
on  the  large  farms,  where  the  extent  of  ground  to  be,  of  neces- 
sity, cultivated,  warranted  the  purchase  of  clod-crushers  and  other 
strong  and  expensive  implements,  and  made  it  necessary  to  em- 
ploy a  considerable  number  of  laborers,  the  proportion  of  land 
under  tillage  was  more  extensive,  and  much  more  thorough  work 
was  made  with  it. 

I  wish  I  could  say  that  the  condition  of  the  laborers  appeared 


HEDGES.  153 


to  be  elevated  with  that  of  agriculture,  by  the  leasing  of  the  land 
in  larger  tracts,  and  to  men  of  larger  capital.  It  is  true  that  the 
tendency  is  to  increase  the  rate  of  wages  and  give  employment  to 
more  hands ;  but  it  is  also  evident  that,  by  the  engrossment  of 
several  small  farms  in  one  large  one,  a  number  of  persons  must 
be  reduced  from  the  comparatively  independent  position  of  small 
farmers  to  that  of  laborers,  and  I  cannot  see  that  for  this  there  is 
any  compensating  moral  advantage. 

Another  evil  of  the  small  farms  (not  exclusively  however),  is 
the  quantity  of  land  injured  or  withdrawn  from  cultivation  by 
the  fences.  These  are  almost  universally  hedges  ;  and  not  only 
are  they  left  untrimmed  and  straggling,  thereby  shading  and 
feeding  upon  the  adjoining  land,  but  a  great  many  large  trees 
have  been  allowed  to  grow  up  in  them,  of  course  to  the  injury  of 
any  crops  under  their  branches.  These  are  sometimes  kept  low, 
the  limbs  being  trimmed  off  for  firewood  (in  which  case  they  are 
called  pollards),  or  are  left  to  grow  naturally.  In  the  latter  case, 
of  course,  they  add  exceedingly  to  the  beauty  of  the  landscape, 
and  eventually  become  of  value  for  timber ;  but  high  as  this  is 
here,  I  cannot  at  all  believe  it  will  ever  compensate  for  the  loss 
occasioned  to  the  farm-crops.  Where  every  five  or  ten  acres  is 
surrounded  by  a  hedge  and  ditch,  the  damage  done  cannot  be 
slight.  By  way  of  improvement,  we  have  seen  where  lately 
some  hedges  have  been  grubbed  up,  two  old  fields  being  thrown 
together.  We  have  also  seen  a  few  wire  fences  in  use.  These 
latter  were  very  slightly  set  up,  and  could  hardly  be  intended  for 
permanence.  We  have  also  seen  some  fine,  low,  narrow  hedges, 
taking  up  but  little  room,  and  casting  but  little  shade.  When  a 
hedge  is  thus  well  made  and  kept,  I  am  inclined  to  esteem  it  the 
most  economical  fence.  The  yearly  expense  of  trimming  it  is 
but  trifling  (less  than  one  cent  a  rod),  and  it  is  a  perfect  barrier 
to  every  thing  larger  than  a  sparrow.  The  farmers  seem  to  set 


154  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

much  value  upon  the  shelter  from  cold  winds  which  the  hedges 
afford. 

Drainage. — The  need  of  thorough  draining  is  nowhere  so 
obvious  as  upon  clay  soils  with  stiff  sub-soils.  There  will  be  but 
a  few  weeks  in  a  year  when  such  soils  are  not  too  wet  and  mor- 
tary,  or  too  dry  and  bricky,  to  be  plowed  or  tilled  in  any  way  to 
advantage.  In  the  spring  it  is  difficult  to  cart  over  them,  and  in 
the  summer,  if  the  heat  is  severe  and  long-continued,  without 
copious  rain,  the  crops  upon  them  actually  dwindle  and  suffer 
more  than  upon  the  dryest  sandy  loams.  To  get  rid  of  the  sur- 
face-water, the  greater  part  of  the  cultivated  land  of  Cheshire 
(and,  I  may  add,  of  all  the  heavy  land  of  England)  was,  ages 
ago,  plowed  into  beds  or  "  butts."  These  are  commonly  from  five 
to  seven  yards  wide,  with  a  rise,  from  the  furrows  (called  the 
"  reins ")  to  the  crown,  of  three  or  four  inches  in  a  yard.  The 
course  of  the  butts  is  with  the  slope  of  the  ground ;  a  cross  butt 
and  rein,  or  a  wide,  open  ditch  by  the  side  of  the  hedge,  at  the 
foot  of  the  field,  conducting  off  the  water  which  has  collected  from 
its  whole  surface.  When  the  land  is  broken  up  for  tillage,  and 
often,  even  after  thorough  under-drainage,  these  butts  are  still 
sacredly  regarded  and  preserved. 

Thorough  under-draining,  by  which  all  the  water  is  collected 
after  filtering  through  the  soil  to  some  depth,  was  introduced  here 
as  an  agricultural  improvement  within  the  last  eight  years.  The 
great  profit  of  the  process  upon  the  stiff  soil  was  so  manifest  that 
it  was  very  soon  generally  followed.  The  landlords  commonly 
furnished  their  tenants  with  tile  for  the  purpose,  and  the  latter 
very  willingly  were  at  the  expense  of  digging  the  drains  and 
laying  them.  Wishing,  however,  to  do  their  share  of  the  im- 
provement at  the  least  cost,  the  tenants  have  been  too  often 
accustomed  to  make  the  drains  in  a  very  inefficient  manner,  being 
guided  as  to  distance  by  the  old  reins,  and  laying  their  tile  und( 


AGRICULTURAL  IMPLEMENTS.  155 

these,  often  less  than  eighteen  inches  from  the  surface.  The 
action  of  the  drains  was  thus  often  imperfect.  It  is  now  custom- 
ary for  the  landlords,  when  they  furnish  tile,  to  stipulate  the  depth 
at  which  they  shall  be  laid.  They  sometimes  also  lay  out  the 
courses  and  distances  of  the  drains.  The  Marquis  of  Westmin- 
ster employs  an  engineer,  who  appoints  foremen,  and,  to  a  certain 
extent,  suitably-trained  laborers,  to  secure  the  drainage  of  his 
tenant-lands  in  the  most  lastingly  economical  and  beneficial 
manner.  Last  winter  he  had  two  hundred  men  so  employed,  in 
addition  to  the  labor  furnished  by  the  tenants  themselves,  and 
over  one  million  tiles  were  laid  by  them.  I  heard  nowhere  any 
thing  but  gratification  and  satisfaction  expressed  with  the  opera- 
tion of  the  thorough-drains.* 

Implements. — After  breaking  up  the  sward  of  these  heavy 
lands  with  a  deep,  narrow  furrow-slicing  plow,  an  admirable  in- 
strument, quite  commonly  in  use  and  everywhere  spoken  well  of, 
for  crushing  and  pulverizing  the  soil  in  a  much  more  effectual 
and  rapid  manner  than  the  harrow,  is  Croskill's  Patent  Clod- 
crusher  Roller. 

"  This  implement,"  according  to  the  inventor's  advertisement, 
"  consists  of  twenty-three  roller  parts,  with  serrated  and  uneven 
surfaces,  placed  upon  a  round  axle,  six  feet  wide  by  two  and  a 
half  feet  in  diameter.  The  roller-parts  act  independent  of  each 
other  upon  the  axle,  thus  producing  a  self-cleaning  movement. 
Of  course  the  roller  must  only  be  used  when  the  land  is  so  dry 
as  not  to  stick. 

"  The  following  are  the  various  uses  to  which  this  implement 
is  applied : 

*  A  careful  account  was  kept  with  one  large  farm,  drained  eight  years  ago  by  the  Mar- 
quis of  Westminster.  The  increased  production  attributed  to  the  operation  is  now  equal 
to  27  per  cent,  per  annum  on  the  expenditure,  and  it  was  lately  leased  with  a  correspond- 
ing improved  rental 


156  AY  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

"  1.  For  rolling  corn  as  soon  as  sown  upon  light  lands ;  also 
upon  strong  lands,  that  are  cloddy,  before  harrowing. 

"  2.  For  rolling  wheats  upon  light  lands  in  the  spring,  after 
frosts  and  winds  have  left  the  plants  bare. 

"  3.  For  stopping  the  ravages  of  the  wire-worm  and  grub. 

"  4.  For  crushing  clods  after  turnip  crops,  to  sow  barley. 

"  5.  For  rolling  barley,  oats,  etc.,  when  the  plants  are  three 
inches  out  of  the  ground,  before  sowing  clover,  etc. 

"  6.  For  rolling  turnips  in  the  rough  leaf  before  hoeing,  where 
the  plants  are  attacked  by  wire-worm. 

"  7.  For  rolling  grass  lands  and  mossy  lands  after  compost. 

"  8.  For  rolling  between  the  rows  of  potatoes,  when  the  plants 
are  several  inches  out  of  the  ground. 

"  Cash  prices,  with  traveling  wheels  complete,  6  feet  6  inches, 
£21 ;  6  feet,  £19  10s. ;  5  feet  6  inches,  £18." 

For  still  more  deeply  stirring,  and  for  bringing  weeds  to  the 
surface  of  soil  recently  plowed,  a  great  variety  of  instruments 
entirely  unknown  in  America  are  in  common  use  here.  They  all 
consist  of  sets  of  tines,  or  teeth,  placed  between  a  pair  of  wheels, 
and  so  attached  to  them  that,  by  means  of  a  lever,  having  the 
axletree  of  the  wheels  for  a  fulcrum,  the  depth  to  which  they  shall 
penetrate  is  regulated ;  and  they  may  at  any  time  be  raised  en- 
tirely above  the  surface,  dropping  and  relieving  themselves  from 
the  weeds  and  roots  which  they  have  collected.  Thus,  they  may 
be  described  as  combining  the  action  of  the  harrow,  the  cultivator, 
and  the  horse-rake.  (The  wire-tooth  horse-rake  is  used  as  an 
instrument  of  tillage  by  Judge  Van  Bergen,  at  Coxsackie,  N.  Y.) 
They  are  designated  variously  by  different  manufacturers — as 
grubbers,  scarifiers,  extirpators,  harrows,  and  cultivators.  The 
"Uley  Cultivator"  is  one  of  the  simplest  and  most  efficient.  In 
this  the  tines  are  raised  by  turning  a  crank,  each  complete  turn 
of  which  raises  or  depresses  them  one  inch.  The  depth  to  which 


AGRICULTURAL  IMPLEMENTS.  157 

they  are  penetrating  at  any  time,  is  marked  by  a  dial  near  the 
handle  of  the  crank.  Something  of  the  kind,  more  effectual  than 
any  thing  we  yet  have,  is  much  needed  to  be  introduced  with  us. 
Clean  and  thorough  culture  of  stiff  clay  soils  can  hardly  be  per- 
formed without  it. 

I  should  remark  of  English  agricultural  implements  in  general, 
that  they  seem  to  me  very  unnecessarily  cumbrous  and  compli- 
cated. 


158  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

The  general  condition  of  Agriculture  —  Rotation  of  Crops  —  Productive- 
ness—  Seeding  down  to  Grass  —  Comparison  of  English  and  American 
Practice  —  Practical  Remarks  —  Rye-grass,  Clover  —  Biennial  Grasses — 
Guano  —  Lime  —  The  Condition  of  Laborers,  Wages,  etc. —  Dairy-maids 
—  Allowance  of  Beer. 

T  MUST  say  that,  on  the  whole,  the  agriculture  of  Cheshire,  as 
•*-  the  first  sample  of  that  of  England  which  is  presented  to  me, 
is  far  below  my  expectations.  There  are  sufficient  reasons  to 
expect  that  we  shall  find  other  parts  much  superior  to  it ;  but 
what  we  have  seen  quite  disposes  of  the  common  picture  which 
our  railroad  and  stage-coach  travelers  are  in  the  habit  of  giving 
to  our  imagination,  by  saying  that  "all  England  is  like  a  garden." 
Meaning  only  a  "  landscape  garden,"  a  beautiful  and  harmonious 
combination  of  hill  and  dale,  with  the  richest  masses  of  trees,  and 
groups  and  lines  of  shrubbery,  the  greenest  turf  and  most  pictur- 
esque jbuildings,  it  might  be  appropriately  said  of  many  parts ; 
but  with  reference  to  cultivation,  and  the  productiveness  of  the 
land,  it  might  be  quite  as  truly  applied  to  some  small  districts  of 
our  own  country  as  to  this  part  of  England. 

In  commencing  the  cultivation  of  land  that  has  been  in  grass, 
the  first  crop  is  usually  oats ;  and  the  most  approved  practice 
upon  the  stiff  soils  seems  to  be,  to  plow  deeply  in  the  fall  or 


ROTATION  OF  CROPS.  159 

winter,  and  in  the  spring  to  prepare  the  ground  with  some  strong 
implement  of  the  cultivator  sort.  Oats  are  sowed  much  thicker 
than  is  usual  with  us.  I  hear  of  six  bushels  to  the  acre ;  but 
with  regard  to  this  there  is  much  difference  of  opinion.  The  crop 
of  oats  is  not  often  large  (from  thirty  to  forty  bushels  from  an 
acre  is  common)  ;  but  oats  seldom  make  a  large  crop  upon  clay 
soils.  The  next  year  the  ground  will  be  summer-fallowed,  or,  by 
the  more  enterprising  farmers,  cropped  with  turnips,  beets,  or  with 
potatoes.  The  potatoes  are  sold,  the  turnips  and  beets  fed  to  the 
cows  during  the  winter.  On  the  poorer  farms,  the  cows  get  little 
but  hay  from  December  to  April ;  and  cheese-making  is  given  up 
during  the  winter.  Others,  by  the  help  of  turnips,  beets,  and 
linseed  cake,  keep  a  constant  flow  of  milk,  and  cheese-making  is 
never  interrupted.  (Of  course  the  milking  of  each  cow  is  inter- 
rupted for  awhile  at  her  calving  time,  which  they  try  to  have  in 
March.) 

The  crop  after  roots  is  commonly  barley ;  after  fallow,  wheat, 
of  which  twenty-five  to  thirty  bushels  is  a  common  crop,  and  forty 
not  uncommon.  After  wheat,  oats  again,  and  perhaps  after  the 
oats  another  crop  of  wheat ;  if  so,  the  land  is  manured  with  bones 
or  boughten  manure,  and  sometimes  limed  at  the  rate,  say  of  four 
tons  to  the  acre  of  stone  lime. 

Grass. — With  the  last  crop  of  oats  or  wheat,  clover  and  grass 
seeds  are  sowed.  Grass  was  thought  to  come  better  after  wheat 
upon  under-drained  land.  The  best  farmers  sow  a  very  great 
variety  and  large  measure  of  grass  seeds ;  the  poorer  ones  are 
often  content  with  what  they  can  find  under  their  hay  bays,  sow- 
ing it,  weeds  and  all,  purchasing  only  clover  seed. 

The  quantity  of  grass  seeds  sowed  is  always  much  greater  here 
than  in  America.  I  should  think  it  was  commonly  from  a  bushel 
to  three  bushels  on  an  acre  ;  rarely  less  than  one,  or  more  than 
three.  I  do  not  think  more  than  one  quarter  of  a  bushel,  or 


160  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

perhaps  half  a  bushel  of  the  lighter  seeds,  is  often  sowed  in  the 
United  States.  I  should  attribute  the  more  general  evenness  and 
closeness  of  the  English  meadows  in  a  great  degree  to  this, 
though,  doubtless,  much  is  due  to  the  moister  climate.  Land 
intended  for  permanent  pasture  receives  much  more  seed,  and  a 
larger  variety,  than  that  which  is  intended  to  be  mown  only  for  a 
few  years,  and  then  be  brought  to  tillage  again.  Of  the  good 
policy  of  the  English  practice  for  pastures  (and  the  same  applies 
to  lawns  and  public  greens)  I  have  no  doubt.  Among  the  great 
variety  of  grasses  in  an  English  meadow,  there  will  be  one  that 
springs  up  and  grows  strongly,  furnishing  a  wholesome  and  deli- 
cious bite  to  the  cattle,  as  early  after  the  first  warm  breath  of 
spring  as  the  ground  will  be  dry  enough  to  bear  a  hoof  (and  on 
drained  lands  it  is  rarely  not  so).  This  will  be  succeeded  by 
others,  and  in  May  by  others  ;  and  in  July,  those  natural  to  the 
dryest  and  warmest  soils  will  be  in  perfection ;  and  so  through 
the  year  there  is  a  constantly  renewing  perfection.  A  ranker 
sward,  and  one  that  would  for  a  season  support  more  cattle,  I 
think  would  be  obtained  from  sowing  a  smaller  quantity  and  less 
variety  of  seed. 

I  am  not  prepared  to  recommend  the  English  practice  for 
mowing  lands.  To  obtain  the  largest  quantity  of  grass  hay  from 
an  acre,  without  regard  to  quality,  plow  deep,  manure  deep,  and 
sow  one  variety  of  seed  in  such  quantity  that  when  it  comes  up 
it  will  speedily  tiller,  and  occupy  the  whole  ground,  yet  not  stand 
so  closely  as  to  greatly  crowd  and  compress  the  stools,  thereby 
dwarfing  the  reeds  from  their  natural  size,  and  obstructing  the 
flow  of  sap  in  their  vessels.  Cut  it  when  it  has  attained  to  its 
greatest  size,  while  it  is  yet  entirely  succulent,  just  at  the  time 
that  the  blood  of  the  plant  begins  to  be  drawn  up  into  the  forming 
seed,  and  the  bottom  dries  into  such  tough,  close,  ligneous  fibre 
that  nourishment  can  no  longer  ascend  from  the  root.  The  right 


QUANTITY  OF  GRASS  SEED  TO  AN  ACRE.  161 

quantity  of  seed  for  this  will  vary  in  different  soils — a  very  rich, 
deep  soil  needing  less  than  a  more  sterile  one,  because  in  the 
latter  the  roots  cannot  extend  far  enough  to  collect  the  requisite 
food  and  drink  to  make  a  large,  strong,  open  stool,  and  more 
herbage  will  grow  upon  the  same  space  by  having  the  stools 
stand  closer. 

In  some  degree  proportionately  to  the  closeness  of  the  fibre 
and  the  fineness  of  the  grass,  will  be  its  nourishing  quality,  so 
that  ninety  pounds  of  fine,  close-grown  hay,  from  a  thick-seeded 
meadow,  may  be  of  equal  value  with  a  hundred  pounds  of  a 
coarser,  ranker  quality.  But  the  nourishment  is  by  no  means  in 
the  inverse  ratio  of  size ;  so  that  for  all  ordinary  purposes,  with 
all  the  usual  hay-grasses,  the  farmer  will  find  his  profit  in  study- 
ing to  obtain  the  largest  burthen  of  grass.  For  this  end,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  English  farmers  often  sow  too  much  seed — 
Americans  not  enough.  It  seems,  however,  to  be  the  best  farmers 
in  other  respects  that  sow  the  most  seed  in  England. 

There  is  one  consideration  that  I  have  omitted  to  mention, 
against  the  common  practice  on  American  farms,  where  hay  is  an 
important  staple  crop :  it  is  generally  an  object  to  retain  a  clean 
sward  of  grass  as  long  as  possible,  without  the  necessity  of 
breaking  up,  from  the  grass  having  run  out,  that  is,  given  place 
to  weeds,  or  to  finer  and  less  profitable  grasses.  Where  the  seed 
has  been  thickly  sown,  the  grass  takes  more  entire  possession  of 
the  surface,  and  retains  it  longer.  The  thicker  grass  seed  is 
sown,  therefore,  other  things  being  equal,  the  longer  it  will  lay. 

I  have  known,  in  a  district  where  it  was  the  custom  to  sow 
four  to  eight  quarts  of  timothy  seed,  on  two  occasions,  twenty 
quarts  sowed.  The  result  was  a  finer  grass  in  both  cases ;  in  one 
it  was  thought  the  crop  was  much  larger,  and  in  the  other  that  it 
was  somewhat  smaller,  than  where  ten  quarts  was  sowed  along- 
11 


162  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

side.  The  probability  is,  that  in  an  average  of  ten  years  it  will 
prove  the  larger  crop  on  the  thickest  sown,  in  both  fields. 

The  commonest  grass  seed  sowed  in  England  is  rye-grass,  or 
ray-grass  (perennial).  It  is  a  much  smaller,  closer-growing  grass 
than  our  timothy ;  I  think  it  has  a  sweeter  taste,  is  probably  bulk 
for  bulk,  considerably  more  nutritious,  and  perhaps  so  pound  for 
pound ;  but  I  think  more  fat  and  muscle  can  be  made  from  an 
acre,  if  sowed  with  timothy,  than  with  rye-grass.  A  valuable 
quality  of  rye-grass  is  its  early  spring  growth.  A  field  of  rye- 
grass  will  be  up  some  inches,  offering  a  tempting  bite  to  cattle, 
before  a  field  of  other  grasses  will  begin  to  show  a  green  surface. 
I  believe  that  it  ripens  earlier  too  than  timothy,  and  is  better  for 
mowing-ground  on  that  account,  to  be  sown  with  clover,  which  is 
much  injured  by  over-ripeness,  if  not  cut  till  timothy  is  in  its  best 
state  to  make  hay.  I  have  seen  no  timothy  in  England,  but  I 
know  that  it  is  sometimes  sowed. 

Rye-grass  has  stood  at  the  head  of  the  mowing  grasses  in  some 
parts  of  England  for  centuries.  In  districts  of  light  and  dry  soil, 
it  is  less  in  favor  than  elsewhere,  but,  I  judge,  beeomes  of  more 
value  with  the  improvement  of  husbandry  generally.  Marshall 
(1796),  writing  from  Gloucestershire,  speaks  of  the  general 
strong  prejudice  of  the  farmers  against  ray-grass,  "  smothering 
every  thing  and  impoverishing  the  soil,  until  it  will  grow  noth- 
ing ! "  they  say ;  and,  arguing  against  them,  he  makes  an  obser- 
vation of  value  with  reference  to  the  question  of  quantity  of  seed. 
"  If  real  ray-grass  has  ever  been  tried  alone,  and  without  success, 
it  has  probably  risen  from  too  great  a  quantity  having  been  sown. 
Be  it  ray-grass  or  rubbish,  I  understand  seldom  less  than  a  sack- 
ful" (three  heaped  bushels)  "an  acre  is  thrown  on,  whereas  one 
gallon  an  acre  of  clean-winnowed  real  ray-grass  seed  is  abundantly 
sufficient  on  such  soil  as  the  vale  in  general  is  covered  with." 
The  soil  is  "  a  rich,  deep  loam." 


CLOVER  AND  RYE-GRASS.  163 

Clover  (red  and  Dutch)  is  more  sowed  here  for  hay  than  with 
us,  though  it  is  much  more  difficult  to  make  good  hay  of  it  in  this 
climate.  It  is  sowed  in  the  spring,  as  with  us,  perhaps  20  Ibs.  to 
the  acre.  We  commonly  sow  5  to  10  Ibs.  Arthur  Young  tried 
about  a  dozen  experiments  to  ascertain  the  most  profitable  quan- 
tity of  clover  seed  to  sow,  and  concluded  his  record  of  them  as 
follows : 

"  The  more  seed,  as  far  as  20  Ibs.  per  acre,  undoubtedly  the 
better.  This  is  a  plain  fact,  contradicted  by  no  part  of  the  expe- 
riment ;  and  the  great  inferiority  of  5  to  7  Ibs.  shows  equally 
clear  that  such  portion  of  seed  is  too  small  for  an  acre.  Where 
land  is  well  manured,  less  seed  is  required;  12  J  Ibs.  seems  the 
proper  quantity"  (on  very  rich,  gravelly  soil). 

A  bushel  of  clover  seed  weighs  60  to  64  Ibs. 

In  ground  intended  for  mowing  but  one  or  two  years,  biennial 
varieties  of  the  rye-grass  are  sown,  which  are  of  stronger  growth 
than  the  perennial.  They  are  also  sowed  sometimes  with  perma- 
nent grasses,  giving,  on  a  deep,  rich  soil,  a  heavier  burthen  of 
grass  the  first  year  of  cutting  than  these  would  do.  For  this 
purpose,  I  have  thought  it  might  be  well  to  sow  the  biennial  or 
sub-perennial  rye-grass  seed  with  timothy,  which  does  not  usually 
yield  a  fair  crop  at  its  first  cutting,  and  have  twice  attempted  to 
make  trial  of  the  Italian  rye-grass,  but  in  both  cases  the  seeds 
that  I  had  procured  failed  of  germination. 

I  may  hereafter  notice  several  species  of  herbage  that  are 
much  valued  in  England,  that  have  not  been  generally  introduced 
in  the  United  States.* 

The  grass  is  mowed  for  hay  for  a  longer  or  shorter  course  of 
years ;  sometimes  broken  up  after  one  or  two  seasons,  sometimes 
becoming  permanent  or  perennial  pasture,  and  so  running  on  in- 

*  Fifteen  or  twenty  varieties  of  grass  seeds  are  sowed  together,  and  the  expense  for  seed 
in  laying  down  for  pasture  is  often  ten  or  twelve  dollars  an  acre. 


164  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

definitely ;  and  sometimes  being  mowed  for  a  number  of  years. 
One  field  I  saw  that  had  been  mowed  eight  years,  and  having 
received  a  dressing  of  30  cwt.  of  bones,  promised  fair  yet  to  bear 
heavy  swaths.  Mowing  lands  are  usually  top-dressed  at  the  end 
of  the  second  year,  and  afterwards  every  second  or  third  year. 
All  the  homestead  dung  is  commonly  reserved  for  this  purpose, 
and  all  other  manure  is  purchased  from  the  towns.  Guano  for 
turnips  and  wheat  is  coming  into  general  use ;  some  think  very 
profitably,  others  have  been  disappointed.  For  wheat,  it  is 
applied  at  the  seed  sowing,  and  sometimes  again  as  a  top-dressing 
in  the  spring ;  but  in  a  dry  season  it  is  thought  that  this  second 
application  has  done  more  harm  than  good.  Guano  has  been  a 
good  deal  tried  as  a  top-dressing  for  pastures,  and  it  has  been 
said  to  improve  the  quality  of  cheese  when  so  used.  The  imme- 
diate effect  upon  grass,  when  applied  in  the  spring,  is  always  very 
advantageous ;  but  later  in  the  summer,  particularly  if  the  season 
is  dry,  the  good  effect  disappears,  and  sometimes  the  result  is 
unfavorable. 

Of  course  the  round  of  crop  varies  according  to  every  farmer's 
notion.  What  I  have  described  is  as  common  as  any,  though  not 
probably  among  the  best  farmers.  Another  crop  is  beans,  which 
is  introduced  between  either  of  those  I  have  mentioned,  sometimes 
at  the  head.  Not  uncommonly  the  first  crop  is  wheat,  the  ground 
having  been  summer-fallowed.  Wheat  is  drilled  or  sowed  broad- 
cast— most  commonly  sowed  in  this  county — and  is  either  plowed 
or  harrowed  in,  opinions  varying  as  to  which  is  best.  My  own 
experience  on  a  stiff  soil  is  decidedly  in  favor  of  plowing  in. 

Laborers. — Wages,  as  they  have  been  reported  to  me,  vary 
much,  and  unaccountably.  I  should  think  the  average  for  able- 
bodied  men  as  day-laborers,  working  and  receiving  pay  only  in 
days  that  commence  fair,  was  $2.25  a  week,  perhaps  averaging 
thirty-three  cents  a  day.  The  rent  of  a  laborer's  cottage,  with  a 


LABORERS  —  WAGES.  165 

bit  of  garden  attached  (less  than  a  quarter  of  an  acre),  is  from 
$15  to  $25.  In  addition,  they  have  sometimes  a  few  perquisites 
from  the  farmers  who  regularly  employ  them.  A  great  many 
laborers  in  winter  are  without  work,  and  wages  are  then  a  trifle 
less  than  I  have  mentioned,  as  in  harvest  time  they  are  also  a 
trifle  more.  The  reader  will  understand  that  out  of  this  thirty- 
three  cents,  which  I  have  supposed  to  be  the  average  receipts  of 
a  laborer  per  day,  he  has  to  pay  his  rent,  and  provide  food  and 
raiment  for  his  family.  Of  course  his  diet  cannot  be  very  sump- 
tuous (the  cost  of  provisions  being,  perhaps,  ten  per  cent,  higher 
than  with  us),  but  I  have  not  learned  particulars. 

The  wages  of  farm  servants,  hired  by  the  month  or  year,  and 
boarded  in  the  family,  are  for  men,  from  $45  to  $65  a  year ;  for 
boys,  $15  to  $25 ;  maid-servants,  $30  to  $40 ;  dairy-maids, 
greatly  varying,  say  from  $50  to  $100.* 

It  is  customary  to  give  all  laborers  and  servants  a  certain 
allowance  of  beer  besides  their  wages.  It  is  served  out  several 
times  a  day,  and  may  be  supposed  to  cost,  on  an  average,  ten 
cents  a  day  for  each  person.  One  farmer  estimated  it  at  twice 
that. 

*  Wages  have  since  advanced  considerably,  while  provisions  have  fallen  in  price.  Ag- 
riculture is  nevertheless  more  profitable,  agricultural  improvement  having  been  very 
great. 


166  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER 

Remarks  on  the  Cultivation  of  Beet  and  Mangel-wurzel. 

T  FOUND  the  best  farmers  in  all  the  south  of  England,  and 
•*•  throughout  Ireland,  where  the  soils  were  at  all  stiff,  increasing 
their  crops  of  these  roots.  For  the  production  of  milk  they  are, 
undoubtedly,  a  more  valuable  crop  than  turnips  or  ruta-bagas, 
though  it  is  asserted  that  the  milk  is  more  thin  and  watery. 
Some  thought  them  equal,  and  even  superior,  weight  for  weight, 
for  fattening  cattle.  I  think  it  is  certain  that,  in  such  soils,  a 
larger  amount  of  nutriment  can  be  obtained  from  a  crop  of  them 
on  an  equal  measure  of  ground.  Donaldson  says  the  beet  yields 
a  larger  weight  per  acre,  both  in  roots  and  leaves,  than  any  other 
root  crop  known.  I  have  heard  of  crops  of  from  fifteen  to  thirty- 
five  tons  an  acre ;  and  in  one  instance,  near  New  York,  at  the 
rate  of  forty-four  tons  an  acre,  from  one  quarter  of  an  acre. 
Chemical  analyses  and  practical  experiments  in  feeding,  to  ascer- 
tain their  value  as  compared  with  other  roots,  or  with  hay,  differ 
so  very  greatly,  that  nothing  can  be  said  with  any  certainty  about 
it.  The  climate  of  the  United  States,  like  that  of  France,  is 
much  better  adapted  to  the  beet,  and  much  less  favorable  to  the 
ruta-baga,  than  that  of  England.  The  beet  is  much  less  liable 
to  be  injured  by  insects  or  worms  than  the  turnip  or  ruta-baga, 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  BEET.  167 

though  I  incline  to  think  the  latter  is  much  more  favored  with  us 
than  in  England  in  this  respect. 

The  ground  for  beet  crops  is  prepared  the  same  as  for  turnips ; 
that  is,  it  is  finely  and  deeply  tilled  (and  there  is  no  crop  which 
will  better  show  the  value  of  draining  and  subsoil  plowing),  and 
manured  with  well-decomposed  dung,  compost,  bones,  or  guano, 
in  drills  from  twenty-seven  inches  to  three  feet  apart.  The  seed 
is  usually  prepared  by  steeping  for  from  twenty-four  to  forty-eight 
hours,  and  is  then  rolled  in  lime.  As  rapidly  as  possible  after 
the  manure  is  deposited,  it  is  covered  with  soil  and  the  seed 
dropped,  sometimes  being  drilled  like  turnip  seed,  but  more  com- 
monly dibbled.  There  are  two  simple  machines  used  here  for 
dibbling.  Whatever  way  the  seed  is  planted,  it  must  be  expected 
that  a  large  part  will  fail  to  germinate. 

I  have  found  dibbling  by  hand  not  very  tedious,  as  follows : 
One  man  making  holes  an  inch  deep,  and  six  or  eight  inches 
apart,  with  a  round  stick  an  inch  in  diameter,  another  following 
and  dropping  three  seeds  in  a  hole,  and  a  third  covering  by  a 
single  stroke,  and  pressing,  with  a  hoe.  I  have  obtained  a  large 
crop,  planting  so  late  as  the  middle  of  July,  in  the  climate  of 
New  York. 

A  rapid,  early  growth  of  the  plant  is  important.  When  the 
weeds  come  up,  the  horse-hoe  or  cultivator  is  run  through,  and  as 
often  afterwards  as  there  is  need,  while  the  size  of  the  beets  will 
permit  it,  they  are  horse  and  hand-hoed.  It  is  found  that  earth- 
ing-up  with  a  plow  is  injurious.  When  two  or  three  inches  high, 
the  plants  are  thinned  to  twelve  inches  apart.  When  two  or 
three  plants  come  up  in  a  bunch  one  only  of  them  must  be  left. 
It  will  wilt  down  flat  upon  the  ground  at  first,  but  soon  recovers. 

The  outer  leaves  begin  to  dry  and  decay  early  in  the  fall,  and 
may  then  be  plucked  and  fed  to  cows  with  profit,  and  without  re- 
tarding the  continued  growth  of  the  root.  The  root  may  be  pulled 


168  AN  AMERICAS'  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

by  hand,  and  is  harvested  more  readily  than  any  other.  It  will 
keep  (at  New  York)  in  the  open  air,  in  stacks  four  feet  wide  and 
high,  covered  with  straw  and  six  inches  of  earth,  a  small  hole 
being  left  in  the  top  for  ventilation,  until  April,  and  is  then  of 
great  value  to  new  milk-cows  and  ewes  with  lambs. 

I  particularly  recommend  the  cultivation  of  the  sugar  and 
mangel-wurzel  beets  to  cottage-farming  gentlemen,  who  wish  to 
keep  a  small  dairy  with  a  limited  extent  of  land. 


WREXHAM.  169 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Delightful  walk  by  the  Dee  banks,  and  through  Eaton  Park  —  Wrexham — 
A  Fair  — Maids  by  a  Fountain  —  The  Church  —  Jackdaws  —  The  Tap- 
room and  Tap-room  Talk  —  Political  Deadness  of  the  Laboring  Class — 
A  Methodist  Bagman. 

"pOLLOWING  Nutting's  directions,  we  had  a  most  delightful 
-*-  walk  along  the  river  bank  and  under  some  noble  trees,  then 
through  thick  woods  and  over  a  bit  of  low,  rushy  land,  where 
some  Irishmen  were  opening  drains,  and  out  at  length  into  the 
private  park-road — a  pleasant  avenue,  which  we  followed  some 
miles.  The  park  here  was  well  stocked  with  game;  rabbits 
were  constantly  leaping  out  before  us,  and  we  frequently  started 
partridges  and  pheasants  from  a  cover  of  laurels,  holly,  and  haw- 
thorn, with  which  the  road  was  lined. 

We  came  out  at  Pulford,  when  we  lunched  at  the  Post  Office 
Inn ;  and  thence  walked  by  an  interesting  road,  through  a  village 
of  model  cottages  not  very  pretty,  over  a  long  hill,  from  the  top 
of  which  a  grand  view  back,  and  by  a  park  that  formerly  belong- 
ed to  Judge  Jeffreys,  of  infamous  memory,  to  Wrexham. 

Wrexham  is  a  queer,  dirty,  higgledy-piggeldy  kind  of  town, 
said  to  be  the  largest  in  Wales  (it  is  about  as  large  as  Northamp- 
ton). It  was  the  latter  part  of  a  fair-day,  and  there  had  been  a 


170  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

mustering  of  the  yeomanry  of  the  shire,  so  that  the  streets  were 
crowded  as  we  entered.  In  the  balcony  of  a  hotel  in  the  market- 
place, a  military  band  was  playing  to  a  mass  of  up-turned,  gaping 
faces,  through  which  we  worked  our  way.  The  inns  were  gen- 
erally full  of  guzzling  troopers,  dressed  in  a  very  ugly  fashion  ; 
but  we  finally  found  one,  some  color  of  the  bear  family — blue,  I 
believe — which  seemed  tolerably  quiet,  where  we  stopped  for  the 
night 

After  dining  and  resting  awhile,  we  took  a  walk  about  the 
town.  Most  of  the  houses  out  of  the  market-place  are  very  mean 
and  low,  the  walls  plastered  with  mud  and  whitewashed,  and  the 
roofs  thatched.  Noticing  a  kind  of  grotto  in  a  back  street,  about 
which  a  pretty  group  of  girls  in  short  blue  dresses,  engaged  in 
lively  talk,  were  standing  with  pitchers,  we  approached  it.  We 
came  close  upon  them  before  they  noticed  us,  but  instead  of 
showing  any  timidity,  they  glanced  at  our  hats  and  laughed  clear 
and  heartily,  looking  us  boldly  in  the  face.  Catching  one  alone, 
however,  as  we  descended  to  the  fountain,  and  asking  her  to  let 
us  take  her  mug  to  drink  from,  she  handed  it  to  us,  blushing 
deeply,  and  said  nothing ;  so  we  were  glad  to  leave  quickly  to 
relieve  her.  There  was  a  spring  and  pool  of  remarkably  clear, 
cool  water  within  the  grotto,  from  which  all  the  neighborhood 
seem  to  be  supplied.  Our  California  hats  attracted  more  atten- 
tion at  Wrexham  than  anywhere  else  in  Europe,  but  we  met  with 
no  incivility  or  impertinence  beyond  a  smile  or  laugh. 

The  church  at  Wrexham  is  curious,  from  the  multitude  of 
grotesque  faces  and  figures  carved  upon  it.  It  is  a  large  and  fine 
structure,  and  the  tower  is  particularly  beautiful,  as  seen  from  the 
village.  There  were  jackdaws'  nests  in  it,  and  a  flock  of  these 
birds,  the  first  we  have  seen,  were  hovering  and  screeching 
around  them.  They  are  of  the  crow  tribe,  black,  and  somewhat 
larger  than  a  blue-jay. 


TAP-ROOM  POLITICS.  171 


Returning  to  our  inn,  we  found  in  the  parlor  a  couple  of  lisping 
clerks,  who  were  sipping  wine  in  a  genteel  way,  and  trying  to  say 
smart  things  while  they  ogled  the  landlady's  daughter.  Retreat- 
ing from  their  twaddle,  I  called  for  a  pipe  and  mug  of  ale,  and 
joined  the  circle  in  the  tap-room.  There  was  a  tall,  scarlet- 
coated  fellow,  who  told  me  he  was  a  sergeant  of  the  Guards,  re- 
cruiting here ;  an  older  man,  who  had  been  in  India ;  a  half-tipsy 
miller,  with  a  pleasant-speaking,  good-natured  wife  trying  to  coax 
him  to  come  home ;  and  half  a  dozen  more  rustics,  all  muddling 
themselves  with  beer  and  tobacco. 

The  conversation  was  running  on  politics,  and  was  not  at  all 
interrupted  by  my  entrance ;  on  the  contrary,  I  thought  the  old 
Indian  was  glad  of  a  stranger  to  show  himself  off  before.  He 
was  the  orator  of  the  night,  and  the  others  did  little  but  express 
assent  to  his  sentiments,  except  the  miller,  who  every  few  mo- 
ments interrupted  him  with  a  plain  and  emphatic  contradiction. 
The  sergeant  said  very  little  either  way  except  he  was  appealed 
to,  to  substantiate  some  assertion  "  as  a  military  man,"  but  leaned 
on  the  bar,  drinking  hot  gin-and-water,  and  whispering  with  the 
bar-maid. 

There  was  news  that  the  French  minister  had  taken  diplomatic 
offense  and  demanded  his  passports,  and  war  was  threatened. 
War  there  certainly  would  be,  according  to  the  ex-soldier,  and  a 
terrible  time  was  coming  with  it.  England  was  going  to  be 
whipped-out — it  was  inevitable.  Every  body  assented  "  it  was 
inevitable"  except  the  miller, who  said  it  was  fol-de-rol.  "Why," 
continued  the  Indian,  "  isn't  every  country  in  Europe  against 
England  ? — don't  they  all  hate  her  ?  and  isn't  every  Frenchman 
a  soldier?"  Then  he  described  the  inefficient  state  of  the 
national  defenses,  and  showed  how  easy  it  would  be  for  a  fleet 
of  steamers,  some  dark  night  the  next  week,  to  land  an  army 
somewhere  on  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  before  they  heard  of  it,  it 


172  ^V  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

might  be  right  there  amongst  them !  He  would  like  to  know 
what  there  was  to  oppose  them.  The  miller  said  there  was — 
"  gammon."  The  sergeant,  on  being  asked,  admitted  that  he  was 
not  aware  of  any  respectable  force  stationed  in  that  vicinity,  and 
the  miller  told  him  he  was  a  "  traitor  then."  Indian  said  miller 
knew  nothing  about  war,  and  the  company  unanimously  acqui- 
esced. Indian  then  resumed  his  speech — asked  if  government 
would  dare  to  give  arms  to  the  people,  and  pictured  an  immense 
army  of  Chartists  arising  in  the  night,  and,  with  firebrands  and 
Frenchmen,  sweeping  the  government,  Queen  and  all,  out  of  the 
land,  and  establishing  "  a  republican  kingdom,"  where  the  poor 
man  was  as  good  as  the  rich.  The  company  all  thought  it  very 
probable,  and  each  added  something  to  make  the  picture  more 
vivid.  A  coarse  joke  about  the  Queen's  bundling  off  with  her 
children  produced  much  laughter ;  and  the  hope  that  the  parsons 
and  lawyers  would  have  to  go  to  work  for  a  living,  was  much 
applauded. 

It  was  strange  what  a  complete  indifference  they  all  seemed  to 
have  about  it,  as  if  they  would  be  mere  spectators — not  in  any 
way  personally  interested.  They  spoke  of  the  government  and 
the  Chartists,  and  the  landlords  and  the  farmers,  but  not  a  word 
of  themselves. 

Late  in  the  evening  there  was  some  doleful  singing,  and  a 
woman  came  in  and  performed  some  sleight-of-hand  tricks,  every 
one  giving  her  a  penny  when  she  had  concluded.  We  were 
obliged  to  sleep  two  in  a  bed,  one  of  us  with  a  Methodist  young 
man,  who  traveled  to  make  sales  of  tea,  among  country  grocers 
and  innkeepers,  for  a  Liverpool  house.  He  said  that  what  we 
had  seen  in  the  tap-room  would  give  us  a  very  good  notion  of  the 
character  of  a  large  part  of  the  laboring  class  about  here.  He 
thought  their  moral  condition  most  deplorable,  and  laid  it  much 
to  the  small  quantity  and  bad  quality  of  the  spiritual  food  that 


A  METHODIST  BAGMAN.  173 

was  provided  for  them.  He  seemed  well  informed  about  Ameri- 
ca, and,  excepting  for  slavery  and  steamboat  explosions,  greatly 
to  admire  our  country.  He  had  some  idea  of  going  to  it ;  and 
said  his  present  business  was  exceedingly  disagreeable,  as  it  com- 
pelled him  to  be  so  much  at  inns,  where  he  rarely  found  any  one 
with  whom  he  could  pleasantly  associate. 


174  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Morning  Walk  through  a  Coal  District— Ruabon  — An  Optimist  with  a 
Welsh  Wife  — Graveyard  Notes  — A  Stage-wagon  —  Taxes  —  Wynstay 
Park — Thorough  Draining  —  A  Glimpse  of  Cottage  Life  —  "  Sir  WatMns 
Williams  Wyn." 

June  4«A. 

rFHE  most  agreeable  chimes  from  the  church  tower  we  had 
•*•  ever  heard,  awoke  us  this  morning  at  three  o'clock.  It  is 
light  enough  here  at  that  time  to  read  or  write,  and  the  twilight 
at  evening  does  not  seem  to  be  over  at  half-past  ten.  I  felt  stiff 
and  sore,  but  arose  and  wrote  till  half-past  six,  when  we  got  the 
bar-maid  up,  paid  our  bill  (we  were  charged  only  sixpence  a 
piece  for  our  lodging),  and  were  let  out  into  the  street ;  no  signs 
that  any  one  else  in  the  town  was  yet  stirring. 

Our  road  ran  through  a  coal  district,  tall  chimneys  throwing 
out  long  black  clouds  of  smoke,  and  pump-levers  working  along 
the  hill-tops ;  the  road  darkened  with  cinders ;  sooty  men  corning 
home  from  the  night-work  to  low,  dirty,  thatched  cottages — the 
least  interesting  and  poorest  farmed  country  we  had  yet  traveled 
over.  After  walking  six  miles,  we  stopped  at  the  Talbot  Inn, 
Ruabon,  to  breakfast. 

In  the  tap-room,  over  his  beer,  was  a  middle-aged  man,  a  cur- 
rier by  trade,  who  told  us  he  had  come  hither  nine  years  ago  from 


SIR  WATK1NS  WYN.  175 

Staffordshire,  had  married  a  nice  Welsh  girl,  and  settled  himself 
very  comfortably.  He  said  wages  were  good  here,  and  it  did  not 
cost  so  much  to  live  as  it  used  to.  He  had  a  cottage  in  the  vil- 
lage ;  the  landlord,  Sir  Watkins  Wyn,  was  an  excellent  man,  and 
his  agent  was  very  kind  to  poor  people.  He  did  not  see  any 
need  of  grumbling,  and,  for  his  part,  thought  the  world  a  pretty 
fair  world. 

After  a  good  breakfast,  in  a  room  adorned  with  sporting  pic- 
tures and  a  likeness  of  Sir  Watkins  Wyn,  as  colonel  of  the  local 
yeomanry,  I  returned  to  talk  with  him.  When  he  had  work,  his 
wages  were  six  dollars  a  week,  but  just  now  he  was  out  of  work. 
The  rent  of  his  cottage  and  four  roods  of  land  was  one  hundred 
and  twenty  dollars,  and  Sir  Watkins  paid  the  poor-rates.  Sir 
Watkins  was  not  very  generally  liked  by  his  tenants,  'because  he 
was  not  so  liberal  with  them  as  his  father ;  but  his  father  had 
been  extravagant,  and  run  the  estate  deeply  in  debt,  and  he  had 
need  to  be  more  particular ;  and  he  was  sure  he  was  always  very 
easy  with  poor  folks.  He  had  had  a  deduction  made  on  his  rent 
more  than  once  when  the  times  were  hard  with  him,  and  this 
year  the  farmers  all  were  allowed  ten  per  cent,  of  their  rents, 
because  corn  is  so  low. 

I  had  told  him  I  was  from  America,  and  he  was  asking  me 
some  questions  about  it,  when  he  suddenly  stopped,  fidgeted  about 
a  moment,  and  then,  looking  at  a  woman  coming  across  the  street, 
said,  with  a  laughing,  swaggering  air,  "  There's  my  wife  coming ; 
now  you'll  see  a  specimen  of  a  Welsh  girl ! "  His  wife,  a  stout, 
hard-looking  woman,  walked  briskly  in,  stood  up  straight  before 
him,  folded  her  arms,  and,  in  a  deep,  quiet,  determined  way,  gave 
him  a  regular  Candling.  He  tried  for  awhile  to  make  a  joke  of 
it,  and  to  appease  her.  "  Come  now,  missus,  don't  be  hard  upon 
un' ;  sit  ye  down  now,  and  take  a  pint ;  these  gentlemen  be  from 
Ameriky,  and  I  talks  with  'um  about  going  there.  Come  now, 


176  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

how'd  thee  like  to  go  to  Ameriky  ? "  As  we  were  thus  intro- 
duced, she  glanced  fiercely  at  us,  and  we  retreated  at  once  with- 
out the  door.  He  tried  for  a  moment  longer  to  brave  her,  and 
called  loudly  for  another  mug  of  ale.  She  turned  her  head  to 
the  bar-maid,  and  said,  "  You'll  get  no  more  ale ! "  and  the  bar- 
maid minded  her. 

She  said  he  had  been  there  before  this  morning,  and  when  he 
began  drinking  in  the  morning,  it  was  always  the  last  of  him  for 
the  day.  He  whimpered  out  that  he  had  come  home  and  break- 
fast wasn't  ready,  and  he  hadn't  anything  else  to  do  but  to  come 
back  here.  It  was  ready,  she  said,  and  he  might  have  been 
looking  for  some  work,  and  so  on.  In  a  few  minutes  they  went 
off,  arm  in  arm. 

Opposite  the  inn  was  an  old  church  and  a  graveyard.  There 
were  more  monkey-faces  on  the  church,  and  two  effigies  in  stone, 
of  knights — the  forms  of  their  bodies,  with  shields,  barely  dis- 
tinguishable, and  their  faces  entirely  effaced.  Many  of  the 
gravestones  had  inscriptions  in  Welsh,  and  both  here  and  at 
Wrexham  I  noticed  the  business  of  the  deceased  person  was 
given ;  as,  John  Johnes,  Wheelright ;  Wittiam  Lloyd,  Tanner,  etc. 
On  a  flat  stone  near  the  church,  the  following  was  inscribed 
(letter  for  letter),  perhaps  by  a  Welsh  stone-cutter  following  an 
English  order,  given  verbally — "  This  his  the  end  of  the  vault" 

Returning  from  the  church,  we  found  the  currier  again  drink- 
ing beer  in  the  tap-room,  with  a  number  of  other  men,  a  drunken 
set,  who  probably  had  come  passengers  by  a  "stage-wagon"  that 
stood  in  the  road.  This  was  an  immense  vehicle,  of  pre-railroad 
origin,  like  our  Pennsylvania  wagons,  but  heavier  and  higher. 
It  had  a  heavy  freight  of  barrels,  cases,  and  small  parcels,  on  the 
top  of  which,  under  the  canvass-hooped  cover,  a  few  passengers 
were  cheaply  accommodated,  there  being  a  ladder  in  the  rear  for 
\  them  to  ascend  by.  Behind  one  of  the  hind-wheels  was  a  roller, 


WYNSTAT  PARK.  177 


attached  by  chains  on  either  side  the  wheel  to  the  axletree,  so 
that  if  the  wagon  fell  back  any,  it  scotched  it — a  good  idea  for 
heavy  loads  in  a  hilly  country.  There  were  six  stout  cart-horses 
to  draw  it,  and  all  in  a  line,  the  wheeler  being  in  shafts.  The 
driver  said  he  had  a  load  of  eight  or  ten  tons,  and  drove  three 
miles  an  hour  with  it.  He  paid  about  sixteen  dollars  a  year 
taxes  for  his  horses,  and  two  dollars  for  a  very  ugly  bull-dog,  that 
stood  guard  over  the  establishment  for  more  than  an  hour,  while 
he  was  refreshing  himself  in  the  inn.  At  length  we  saw  the 
whole  company  come  out,  and  the  wagon  started  again,  all  very 
jolly ;  the  currier  and  another  man,  with  their  hands  on  each 
other's  shoulders,  staggered  across  the  street,  singing  "  Oh,  Su- 
sannah ! "  At  the  churchyard  gate  both  fell,  rolled  over  and 
embraced  each  other,  once  or  twice  tried  ineffectually  to  get  up, 
and  then  both  went  to  sleep  there  on  the  ground.  No  wonder 
the  sample  Welsh  girl  had  a  hard  look. 

After  finishing  our-  letters  to  send  by  the  steamer,  we  visited 
Wynstay  Park.  It  is  much  more  picturesque  than  Eaton,  the 
ground  being  diversified  and  the  trees  larger.  The  Hall,  which 
s  a  plain  building,  was  undergoing  repairs. 

We  separated  here  for  a  few  days,  my  friends  wishing  to  see 
more  of  Welsh  scenery,  and  going  to  the  vale  of  Llangollen 
[pronounced  Langothlan),  while  I  had  a  letter  I  wished  to 
deliver  in  another  direction. 

The  park  was  covered  with  lines  of  recently-made  under- 
drains,  and  I  hunted  over  it  in  hopes  to  find  men  at  work,  that  I 
might  see  the  manner  in  which  they  were  constructed.  Going 
to  a  pretty  checkered  timber-house  to  make  inquiries,  I  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  meet  the  foreman  of  the  draining  operations,  Mr. 
Green,  an  intelligent  Warwickshire  man,  who  kindly  took  me  to 
a  field  a  mile  or  two  distant,  where  he  had  thirty  men  at  work. 
The  soil  was  a  gravelly  loam,  with  a  little  heavier  subsoil.  The 
12 


178  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

drains  were  laid  twenty-seven  feet  apart,  and  dug  three  feet  deep 
(ordinarily),  and  one  foot  wide  from  top  to  bottom ;  in  the  middle 
of  the  bottom  a  groove  was  cut  for  the  pipe,  so  the  top  of  it  would 
be  three  feet  from  the  surface.  No  narrow  tools  were  used,  ex- 
cept to  cut  the  grooves  for  the  pipe.  The  foreman  said  that, 
though  a  man  could  work  to  much  better  advantage  in  a  wider- 
mouthed  dram,  the  extra  dirt  to  be  moved  compensated  for  it,  and 
made  this  plan  the  cheapest. 

I  thought  then,  and  since,  until  I  came  to  try  it  in  gravelly  and 
stony  land,  that  the  work  might  be  done  much  more  rapidly  with 
the  long,  narrow  tools  described  by  Mr.  Delafield,*  making  the 
bottom  of  the  drain  only  of  the  width  of  the  pipe  intended  to  be 
laid ;  but  I  find  these  can  only  be  used  to  advantage  in  free 
ground.  The  method  here  described  is  probably  the  best  for 
draining  soils,  where  many  stones  larger  than  a  hen's  egg  are  to 
be  met  with. 

Cylindrical  pipes,  of  either  one  or  one  and  a  half  inch  bore, 
were  laid  in  the  grooves  at  the  bottom  of  the  dram ;  collars,  con- 
necting them,  were  only  used  in  the  loosest  soils.  The  mains 
were  laid  one  foot  deeper  than  the  collecting  drains,  and  the  pipes 
in  them  were  from  two  to  six  inches  bore.  No  series  of  drains 
were  run  more  than  seventy  yards  in  length  without  a  main,  and 
all  the  mains  emptied  into  an  open  ditch  at  the  lowest  side  of  the 
field,  which  was  made  deep  enough  to  allow  of  a  drop  of  one  foot 
from  the  mouths  of  the  pipes.  Where  such  a  ditch  was  likely  to 
gully,  the  sides  were  sloped  and  turfed. 

The  wages  of  the  men  employed  at  this  work  averaged  $2.25 
a  week ;  boys,  1 6  cents  a  day. 

Mr.  Green  sent  a  lad  to  guide  me  across  the  park  to  the  road 
I  wished  to  take — a  remarkably  bright,  amiable  boy,  with  whom 
I  had  a  pleasant  talk,  as  he  led  me  on  by  the  most  charming  way 

*  Transactions  N.  Y.  State  Agricultural  Soc.,  1848,  p.  232. 


THE  GOOD  LANDLORD.  179 

among  the  old  oaks,  and  through  herds  of  deer.  He  could  read 
and  write,  and  knew  something  of  geography  and  arithmetic, 
having  been  instructed  by  the  curate  of  Ruabon,  whom  he  seemed 
to  have  much  loved.  (I  think  he  had  died  lately.)  He  also 
spoke  kindly  of  Sir  Watkins  and  lady,  to  whom  his  father  was 
shepherd,  and  said  that  all  their  servants  and  poor  people  were 
much  attached  to  them.  Passing  near  the  Hall,  I  asked  for  some 
water,  and  he  took  me  into  one  of  the  servants'  cottages  to  get  it. 
There  was  an  old  woman  rocking  a  cradle,  and  a  young  woman 
ironing  linen,  both  very  neatly  dressed ;  the  furniture  plain  and 
meagre,  but  every  thing  clean,  and  an  appearance  of  a  good  deal 
of  comfort  about  the  room. 

While  the  repairs  were  being  made  upon  the  Hall,  the  family 
lived  in  a  cottage  completely  embowered  among  trees  and  shrubs, 
which  we  afterwards  passed ;  and  I  had  the  honor  of  catching  a 
glimpse,  through  the  foliage,  of  a  form  in  a  gray  coat  which,  I 
was  assured,  was  the  good  Sir  Watkins  himself. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  park,  I  crossed  the  Esk  by  a  very  high 
stone  arch,  built  "  by  Sir  Watkins,"  as  some  ragged  boys  and 
girls,  who  were  employed  in  collecting  for  manure  the  horse-dung 
that  dropped  upon  the  road,  informed  me,  and  this  was  the  last  I 
heard  of  Sir  Watkins. 


180  ;LV  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Stone  Houses  —  Ivy  —  Virginia  Creeper  —  A  Visit  to  a  Welsh  Horse-Fair 

—  English  Vehicles  —  Agricultural  Notes  —  Horses  —  Breeds  of  Cattle  — 
Herefords,  Welsh,  and  Smuthy  Pates— Character  of  the  People  — Dress 

—  Powis  Park. 

Shrewsbury,  June  1th. 

T  HAVE  been  visiting  a  gentleman  to  whom  I  was  introduced 
•*•  by  Prof.  Norton.  His  residence  is  on  the  east  border  of 
Wales,  amidst  very  beautiful  scenery  of  round-topped  hills,  and 
deep,  verdant,  genial  dells.  He  has  the  superintendence  of  a 
large  number  of  mines  of  coal  and  metals,  and  of  several  agricul- 
tural estates,  the  extent  of  which  may  be  imagined  from  the  fact, 
that  he  is  preparing  to  thorough-drain  5000  acres  next  winter. 
He  is  building  a  tilery,  and  will  employ  seven  draining-engineers, 
each  with  two  foremen  to  oversee  the  work.  The  cost,  it  is  esti- 
mated, will  be  from  $23  to  $25  an  acre ;  drains,  seventeen  feet 
apart  and  three  feet  deep. 

The  house  is  of  stone,  and  is  covered  with  ivy,  which  I  men- 
tion that  I  may  contradict  a  common  report,  that  ivy  upon  the 
wall  of  a  house  makes  it  damp.  The  contrary,  I  have  no  doubt, 
is  the  fact.  The  ivy-leaves  fall  one  over  another,  shedding  off 
the  rain  like  shingles ;  and  it  is  well  ascertained  that  in  a  long 
storm,  the  inside  walls  of  those  rooms  in  a  house  which  are  pro- 


STONE  B  UILDINGS  —  IVY.  181 

tected  by  the  ivy,  are  much  less  damp  than  those  not  so  shielded. 
It  is  also  generally  supposed  in  America  that  stone  houses  are 
much  damper  than  wood.  This  may  be  so  with  some  kinds  of 
porous  stone,  but  I  can  testify  from  my  own  experience  that  it  is 
not  so  with  others.  A  slight  furring  out  on  the  inside,  and  lath 
and  plaster,  will  in  all  cases  remove  this  objection  to  any  stone. 
A  good  stone  house  is  warmer  in  winter,  cooler  in  summer,* 
equally  dry  and  healthful,  and,  if  built  in  convenient  and  appro- 
priate style,  every  way  much  more  satisfactory  and  comfortable 
than  our  common,  slight-framed  buildings.  As  for  the  ivy,  I 
think  it  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  God  has  given  us,  and 
the  man  who  can  and  does  not  let  it  beautify  his  habitation,  is 
sinfully  ungrateful.  It  grows  luxuriantly  on  the  north  side  of  a 
house  or  wall  in  the  climate  of  New  York.  (My  experience  is 
with  the  Irish  ivy.)  f 

The  day  after  I  reached  here,  my  host  had  occasion  to  go  to  a 
horse-fair  at  Welsh  Pool,  a  place  some  twenty  miles  distant,  and 
invited  me  to  accompany  him.  We  went  in  a  dog-cart,  a  kind 
of  heavy  gig,  which  here  takes  the  place  of  our  light  boat- wagon. 
It  is  a  box  (large  enough  to  hold  a  dog  or  two  in  driving  to  sport- 
ing ground),  hung  low,  between  two  small,  heavy  wheels,  with  a 
seat  on  the  top  of  it  for  two,  looking  forward,  and  sometimes 
another  in  which  two  more  can  sit  looking  backward.  On  the 
back,  to  exempt  it  from  the  tax  upon  more  luxurious  vehicles,  is 
painted  the  owner's  name,  business,  and  place  of  residence,  thus : 
"John  Brown,  Farmer,  Oswestry,  Shrops."  All  the  humbler 
class  of  carriages  are  thus  marked  here,  including  farm  carts. 

The  landscapes   were   agreeable   in  the  country  we   passed 

*  In  a  late  rapid  change  of  weather,  the  thermometer  on  the  outside  of  my  house  rose 
in  18  hours  from  19  deg.  to  35  deg.,  while  that  within  the  walls  remained  stationary  at 
20  deg.,  not  rising  even  one  degree,  though  there  was  no  fire  within  two  rooms  of  it, 

t  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  has  been  sadly  cut  down  by  the  winters  of  1856  and  1857. 


182  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

through,  but  the  farming  in  much  of  it  no  better  than  in  some 
parts  of  the  Connecticut  Valley.  Coarse,  rushy  grass,  indicating 
the  need  of  draining,  grew  in  much  of  the  meadow  land — as  I 
think  it  does,  to  the  exclusion  of  more  valuable  grasses,  in  land 
that  is  ordinarily  dryer  than  such  as  would  spontaneously  produce 
it  in  America.  The  buildings  along  the  road  were  such  as  I 
have  previously  described ;  but  I  saw  one  old  shackling  board 
barn  which,  but  for  its  thatched  roof,  would  have  looked  very 
home-like. 

"Welsh  Pool  is  a  small,  compact  town  (population  5000),  with 
a  market-house,  and  a  single  small  church,  on  the  tower  of  which 
a  union-jack  was  hoisted,  and  within  which  there  is  a  peal  of 
three  bells,  that  continually,  all  day  long,  did  ring  most  unmusic- 
ally ;  there  were  booths  in  the  main  street,  in  which  women  sold 
dry  goods,  hosiery,  pottery,  etc.  In  another  street  horses  were 
paraded,  and  in  other  places  cows  and  swine. 

There  was  present  a  considerable  crowd  of  the  country  people, 
which  I  observed  carefully.  I  verily  believe,  if  five  hundred  of 
the  common  class  of  farmers  and  farm-laboring  men,  such  as 
would  have  come  together  on  similar  business — say  from  all  parts 
of  Litchfield  County,  in  Connecticut — had  been  introduced  among 
them,  I  should  not  have  known  it,  except  from  some  peculiarities 
of  dress.  I  think  our  farmers,  and  particularly  our  laborers, 
would  have  been  dressed  up  a  little  nearer  the  town  fashions,  and 
would  have  seemed  a  little  more  wide  awake,  perhaps,  and  that's 
all.  I  not  only  saw  no  drunkenness,  except  a  very  few  solitary 
cases  late  in  the  day ;  no  rioting,  though  there  were  some  police- 
men present,  but  no  gayety ;  every  body  wore  a  sober  business 
face,  very  New  England-like. 

The  small  farmers  and  laboring  men  all  wore  leggins,  button- 
ing from  the  knee  to  the  ankle ;  heavy  hob-nailed  shoes ;  little, 
low,  narrow-brimmed,  round-topped  felt  hats,  and  frocks  of  linen, 


R  USTIC  DRESS  —  HORSES  —  CATTLE.  183 

blue  or  white  in  color,  the  skirts  reaching  below  the  knee,  very 
short  waists,  a  kind  of  broad  epaulette,  or  cape,  gathered  in, 
boddice  fashion,  before  and  behind,  loose  shirt-like  sleeves,  and 
the  whole  profusely  covered  with  needle-work.  I  suppose  this  is 
the  original  smock-frock.  An  uglier  garment  could  not  well  be 
contrived,  for  it  makes  every  man  who  wears  it  appear  to  have  a 
spare,  pinched-up,  narrow-chested,  hump-backed  figure.  The 
women  generally  wore  printed  calico  jackets,  gathered  at  the 
waist,  with  a  few  inches  only  of  skirt,  and  blue  or  gray  worsted 
stuff  petticoats,  falling  to  within  a  few  inches  of  the  ankle  —  a 
picturesque,  comfortable,  and  serviceable  habit,  making  them 
appear  more  as  if  they  were  accustomed  to  walk  and  to  work, 
and  were  not  ashamed  of  it,  than  women  generally  do.  Most 
incongruously,  as  a  topping  off  to  this  sensible  costume,  a  number 
of  women  had  crowded  their  heads  into  that  ultima  thule  of 
absurd  invention,  a  stiff,  narrow-brimmed,  high-crowned,  cylin- 
drical fur  hat.  What  they  did  with  their  hair,  and  how  they 
managed  to  keep  the  thing  on  their  heads,  I  cannot  explain. 
They  did  do  it,  notwithstanding  something  of  a  breeze,  as  well  as 
the  most  practiced  man,  and  without  showing  evidence  of  any 
particular  suffering. 

There  were,  perhaps,  a  hundred  horses  offered  for  sale ;  among 
them  one  pair  only  of  fine  carriage-horses,  one  large  and  fine 
thorough  bred  cart-horse,  and  a  few  pretty  ponies.  All  the  rest 
were  very  ordinary  stout  working-horses,  much  like  our  Pennsyl- 
vania horses.  The  average  price  of  them  was  but  a  trifle  over 
$100,  about  what  they  would  bring  at  New  York. 

There  were  still  fewer  cattle,  and  they  were  all  comprised  in 
three  breeds  and  their  intermixtures :  first,  Hereford,  which 
predominated;  second,  Welsh,  small,  low,  black  beasts,  with 
large  heads  and  white  faces,  black  muzzles  and  long  spreading 
horns ;  third,  Smutty  Pates,  an  old  Welsh  breed  hardly  to  be 


184  Ay  AMERICAS'  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

found  in  purity  now.  They  are  longer  and  somewhat  larger  than 
Devons,  a  little  lighter  red  in  color,  with  invariably  black  or 
brindle  faces.  They  were  generally  in  fair  condition,  and  would 
cut  up  particularly  heavy  in  their  hind  quarters.  A  Smithfield 
man  told  me  that  he  thought  a  cross  of  this  breed  with  the  Here- 
ford made  the  best  beef  in  England. 

After  dining  with  a  number  of  gentlemen,  most  of  whom  had 
come  from  a  distance  to  attend  the  fair,  I  took  a  walk  out  into 
the  country,  about  the  town.  The  only  object  of  interest  that  I 
remember  was  "  Powis  Castle,"  the  seat  of  a  nobleman,  nobly 
situated  in  a  picturesque,  mountain-side  park.  The  castle  itself 
is  upon  a  spur  of  the  mountain,  and  is  hidden  among  fine  ever- 
green trees.  I  had  toiled  up  to  within  about  ten  feet  of  the  edge 
of  the  plateau  upon  which  it  stands,  when  I  heard  a  low,  deep 
growl,  and,  looking  up,  saw  above  me  a  great  dog  asking  me,  writh 
bristling  back,  curling  fangs,  and  fierce  grinning  teeth,  what  busi- 
ness I  had  to  be  there.  Considering  that  I  had  no  right  to  be 
visiting  the  residence  of  a  gentleman  who  was  a  stranger  to  me, 
unless  I  had  some  business  with  him,  and  concluding  upon  short 
reflection  that  indeed  I  had  none  I  determined  upon  a  retrogade 
movement ;  and  taking  care  not  to  attempt  even  to  apologize  to 
his  dogship  for  the  intrusion  until  I  had  brought  a  few  trees 
between  us,  I  found  that  he  backed  down  just  about  as  fast  as  I 
did,  so  that  at  a  distance  of  hah0  a  dozen  rods  he  appeared  a  hand- 
some, smooth,  generous-natured  mastiff,  and  I  began  to  consider 
whether  the  earl  would  not  probably  be  pleased  to  have  an  intel- 
ligent stranger  see  the  beauty  of  his  castle ;  but  the  moment  I 
stopped,  the  dog's  lips  began  to  part  and  his  back  to  rise  again, 
and  I  concluded  that  whatever  the  earl's  wishes  might  be,  I  could 
not  make  it  convenient  just  then  to  accommodate  him,  and  re- 
turned forthwith  to  the  village. 


THE  MASTIFF.  185 


The  true  mastiff  is  a  somewhat  rare  dog  in  England,  and  I 
don't  think  that  I  ever  saw  one  in  America.  He  is  very  large 
and  powerful,  and  smooth-haired. 


186  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

English  Vehicles  —  A  Feudal  Castle  and  Modern  Aristocratic  Mansion  — 
Aristocracy  in  1850  —  Primogeniture  —  Democratic  Tendency  of  Politi- 
cal Sentiments — Disposition  towards  the  United  States — Combativeness 
—  Slavery. 

f"   AND  C.,  after  a  tramp  among  the  mountains  of  Wales, 

*   which  they  have  much  enjoyed,  reached  the  village  nearest 

to  where  I  was  visiting  last  night.     This  morning  a  party  was 

made  with  us  to  visit Castle.    We  were  driven  in  a  "  Welsh 

car,"  which  is  much  the  same  kind  of  vehicle  as  the  two-wheeled 
hackney  cabs  that  a  few  years  ago  filled  the  streets  of  New  York, 
and  then  suddenly  and  mysteriously  disappeared.  Two-wheeled 
vehicles  are  "all  the  go"  in  England.  They  are  excessively 
heavy  and  cumbrous  compared  with  ours,  the  wheels  much  less 
in  diameter,  and  they  must  run  much  harder,  yet,  over  these 
magnificent  roads,  they  can  load  them  much  more  heavily. 

The  castle  is  on  high  ground,  in  the  midst  of  the  finest  park 
and  among  the  largest  trees  we  have  seen.  The  moat  is  filled 
up,  and  there  are  a  few  large  modern  windows  in  the  upper  part, 
otherwise  it  differs  but  little  probably  from  what  it  appeared  in 
the  time  of  the  crusaders.  The  whole  structure  is  in  the  form  of 
a  square  on  the  ground,  with  four  low  round  towers  at  the  corners, 


ARISTOCRA  TIC  L  UXUR  T.  187 

and  a  spacious  court-yard  in  the  centre.  The  entrance  is  by  a 
great  arched  gateway,  over  which  the  old  portcullis  still  hangs. 

We  were  kindly  shown  through  all  its  parts,  including  much 
not  usually  exhibited  to  strangers,  and  I  confess  that  I  was  not 
more  interested  in  those  parts  which  were  its  peculiar  features  as 
a  feudal  stronghold,  than  in  those  that  displayed  the  sumptuous 
taste,  luxury,  and  splendor  of  a  modern  aristocratic  mansion.  The 
state  apartments  were  palatial,  and  their  garniture  of  paintings, 
sculpture,  bijoutry,  furniture,  and  upholstery,  magnificent  and 
delightful  to  the  eye  beyond  any  conception  I  had  previously  had 
of  such  things.  Let  no  one  say  it  will  be  soon  reproduced,  if  it  is 
not  already  excelled,  in  the  mansions  of  our  merchant-princes  in 
America.  Excelled,  in  some  respect,  it  may  be,  but  no  such 
effect  can  be  reproduced,  or  furnished  at  once  to  the  order  of 
taste  and  wealth,  for  it  is  the  result  of  generations  of  taste  and 
wealth.  There  was,  in  all,  never  a  marvelous  thing,  or  one  that 
demanded  especial  attention,  or  that  proclaimed  in  itself  great 
costliness;  and  while  nothing  seemed  new,  though  much  was 
modern,  most  of  the  old  things  were  of  such  materials,  and  so 
fashioned,  that  age  was  of  no  account,  and  not  a  word  was  said  by 
them  of  fleeting  time.  The  tone  of  all — yes,  the  tone — musical 
to  all  who  entered,  was,  Be  quiet  and  comfortable,  move  slowly 
and  enjoy  what  is  nearest  to  you  without  straining  your  eyes  or 
your  admiration ;  —  nothing  to  excite  curiosity  or  astonishment, 
only  quiet  contemplation  and  calm  satisfaction. 

I  liked  it,  liked  to  be  in  it,  and  thought  that  if  I  had  come 
honestly  to  the  inheritance  of  it,  I  could  abandon  myself  to  a  few 
months  living  in  the  way  of  it  with  heartiness.  But  in  the  first 
breath  of  day-dreaming,  I  was  interrupted  by  the  question,  Is  it 
right  and  best  that  this  should  be  for  the  few,  the  very  few  of  us, 
when  for  many  of  the  rest  of  us  there  must  be  but  bare  walls, 
tile  floors,  and  every  thing  besides  harshly  screaming,  scrabble 


188  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

for  life  ?  This  question,  again,  was  immediately  shoved  aside 
unanswered,  by  another:  Whether,  in  this  nineteenth  century  of 
the  carpenter's  son,  and  first  of  vulgar,  whistling,  snorting,  rattling 
roaring  locomotives,  new-world  steamers,  and  submarine  electric 
telegraphs ;  penny  newspapers,  free  schools,  and  working-men's 
lyceums,  this  still,  soft  atmosphere  of  elegant  age  was  exactly  the 
most  favorable  for  the  production  of  thorough,  sound,  influential 
manhood,  and  especially  for  the  growth  of  the  right  sort  of  legis- 
lators and  lawgivers  for  the  people. 

It  seems,  certainly,  that  it  wrould  be  hard  for  a  man,  whose 
mind  has  been  mainly  formed  and  habited  in  the  midst  of  this 
abundance,  of  quiet,  and  beauty,  and  pleasantness,  to  rightly  un- 
derstand, and  judiciously  work  for,  the  wants  of  those  whose 
"native  air"  is  as  different  from  this  as  is  that  of  another  planet 
Especially  hard  must  it  be  to  look  with  perfect  honesty  and  ap- 
preciating candor  upon  principles,  ideas,  measures,  that  are 
utterly  discordant  with,  and  threaten  to  interrupt,  this  costly  nur- 
sery song,  to  which  his  philosophy,  religion  and  habits  have  been 
studiously  harmonized. 

I  may  as  well  here  record  my  observation  of  the  general  dis- 
position of  the  English  people  towards  our  nation,  which  I  confess 
I  did  not  find  to  be  exactly  what  I  had  anticipated,  and  which  I 
think  must  be  generally  much  misconceived  in  the  United  States. 

There  is  a  certain  class  of  the  English  —  conservative  whigs 
more  than  tories,  as  I  met  them — who  look  upon  the  United  States 
as  a  nation  of  vulgar,  blustering,  rowdy  radicals ;  very  much  as  a 
certain  set  with  us  look  upon  the  young  mechanics  and  butcher- 
boys  of  the  town — troublesome,  dangerous,  and  very  "  low,"  but 
who  are  necessary  to  put  out  fires,  and  whose  votes  are  of  value  at 
elections,  with  whom  it  is  as  well  therefore  to  keep  on  civil  terms. 
A  considerable  number  of  pretending,  sub-aristocratic,  super-sen- 
sible people,  follow  more  or  less  in  their  wake.  But  the  great 


FEELING  TOWARDS  THE  UNITED  STATES.  189 

mass  of  the  educated  classes  regard  us  quite  differently;  not  with 
unqualified  respect  and  unalloyed  admiration,  but  much  as  we  of 
the  Atlantic  States  regard  our  own  California — a  wild,  dare-devil, 
younger  brother,  with  some  dangerous  and  reprehensible  habits, 
and  some  noble  qualities ;  a  capital  fellow,  in  fact,  if  he  would 
but  have  done  sowing  his  wild  oats. 

This  may  be  well  enough  understood  in  the  United  States ;  but 
further,  there  is  not  in  the  English  people,  so  far  as  I  have  seen 
them,  rich  or  poor,  learned  or  ignorant,  high  or  low,  the  slightest 
soreness  or  rancorous  feeling  on  account  of  our  separation  from 
them,  or  our  war  of  separation.  No  doubt  there  are  still  a  few 
"aged  women  of  both  sexes"  who  worship  the  ghost  of  that  old 
fool,  "  the  good  King  George,"  who  look  upon  us  with  unaffected 
horror,  as  they  do  equally  upon  their  own  dissenters  and  liberals. 
Yet  it  never  happened  to  me,  though  I  met  and  conversed  freely 
with  all  classes  except  the  noble,  while  I  was  in  England,  to  en- 
counter the  first  man  who  did  not  think  that  we  did  exactly  right, 
or  who  was  sorry  that  we  succeeded  as  we  did  in  declaring  and 
maintaining  our  independence.* 

The  truth  is,  I  suspect,  that,  at  that  time,  the  great  mass  of 
thinking  men  in  England  were  much  of  that  opinion.  Our  war 
was  with  George  and  his  cabinet,  not  with  the  people  of  England, 
and  if  they  did  reluctantly  sustain  the  foolish  measures  of  the 
king,  it  was  precisely  as  our  Whigs,  who  were  opposed  to  the 
measures  that  led  to  the  war  with  Mexico,  sustained,  with  money 
and  with  blood,  that  war  when  it  was  inevitable.  It  is  a  remark- 
able thing,  I  have  noticed,  that  there  are  many  men  in  England 
who  were  born  at  the  time  of,  or  shortly  subsequent  to,  our  Rev- 
olutionary War,  who  are  named  after  the  American  heroes  of  that 
war — Washington,  Jefferson,  and  Franklin. 

*  I  have  lived  nine  months  in  England  since  I  wrote  this  sentence,  and  it  still  remains 
literally  true  (1858). 


190  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

This  and  other  circumstances,  early  in  my  visit  to  England, 
made  me  reflect  that  the  hostile  feeling  of  the  people  had  never 
been  deeply  engaged  against  us ;  while  it  soon  became  also  evi- 
dent, that  very  much  less  of  so  much  hostility  as  they  once  had 
towards  us  had  descended  to  the  present  than  we  are  in  the  habit 
of  calculating  for. 

The  reason  of  the  great  difference  in  this  respect  of  the  popular 
feeling  in  the  two  countries  is  evident,  though  it  often  extremely 
puzzles  and  offends  a  liberal  Englishman,  who  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  looking  with  a  strong  feeling  of  fraternity  towards  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  to  find  himself  when  he  comes  among 
them,  expected  in  all  his  opinions  and  feelings  to  be  either  a 
traitor  to  his  own  country  or  an  enemy  of  ours.  It  is  easily  ex- 
plained however. 

There  is  a  fondness  for  hostility  in  our  nature  that  wants  some 
object  towards  which  to  direct  itself.  Seventy  years  ago,  and 
forty  years  ago,  that  object  to  us  as  a  nation  was  the  kingdom  of 
Great  Britain.  No  other  object,  until  within  a  few  years,  has 
been  offered  to  us  to  weaken  that  traditional  hostility.  All  our 
military  and  naval  glory,  the  most  blazing,  though  by  no  means 
the  most  valuable,  jewels  of  our  national  pride,  have  been  our 
victories  in  war  with  Great  Britain.  Almost  our  only  national 
holidays  have  been  in  a  great  part  exultations  over  our  successful 
hostilities  with  Great  Britain.  "  The  enemy"  and  "  the  British," 
came  to  me  from  my  fighting  grandfather  as  synonymous  terms. 
"When  I  was  a  child  I  never  saw  an  Englishman  but  I  was  on  my 
guard  against  him  as  a  spy,  and  would  look  behind  the  fences  to 
see  that  there  was  no  ambuscade  of  red-coats.  I  made  secret 
coverts  about  the  house,  so  that  when  they  came  to  sack  and  burn 
it,  and  take  our  women  and  children  into  captivity,  I  could  lay  in 
wait  to  rescue  them.  In  our  school-boy  games  the  beaten  party 
was  always  called  "  British."  If  a  law  was  odious  it  was  termed 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOL  UTION.  191 

a  British  law ;  if  a  man  was  odious  he  was  called  an  "  old  Tory ;" 
and  it  has  been  with  us  a  common  piece  of  political  blackguard- 
ism till  within  a  short  time,  if  it  is  not  now,  to  speak  of  those  of 
an  opposite  party  as  under  British  influence. 

The  war  had  been  with  us  a  war  of  the  people ;  not  a  woman, 
as  she  sipped  her  tea,  but  imbibed  hatred  to  the  taxing  British, 
and  suckled  her  offspring  with  its  nourishment ;  not  a  man  of 
spunk  in  the  country  but  was  hand  to  hand  fighting  with  the 
British,  and  teaching  his  sons  never  to  yield  to  them. 

In  England,  on  the  other  hand,  comparatively  few  of  the 
people  knew  or  cared  at  all  about  the  war ;  even  the  soldiers 
engaged  in  it  were  in  considerable  numbers  mere  hirelings  from 
another  people,  whom  the  true  English  would  have  rather  seen 
whipped  than  not,  so  far  as  they  had  any  national  feeling  about 
it.  Their  hostile  feeling  was  even  then  more  directed  towards 
France  than  towards  America ;  and  now,  I  do  not  believe  there 
is  one  in  a  thousand  of  the  people  of  England  who  has  the  slight- 
est feeling  of  hostility  towards  us,  descending  or  inherited,  from 
that  time.*  It  was  much  so  again  in  the  later  war.  England 
was  at  war  with  half  the  world  in  those  days,  and  if  a  general 
disposition  of  enmity  towards  us  had  been  at  all  aroused  in  the 
course  of  it,  all  recollection  of  it  was  lost  in  the  fiercer  wars  with 
other  nations  that  immediately  followed.  I  doubt  if  one  in  a 
hundred  of  the  voters  of  England  could  tell  the  name  of  a  single 
ship  engaged  in  the  war  of  1812 ;  whether  it  was  General  Hull 
or  Commodore  Hull  who  was  heroized  in  it;  whether,  in  the 
assault  upon  New  Orleans  or  Washington,  it  was  that  their  forces 
were  successful ;  or  whether,  finally,  they  carried  or  lost  the  di- 
plomatic point  for  which  their  soldiers  and  sailors  had  been  set  to 
fighting. 

Even  if  the  people  of  England  could  remember  us  equally 

*  Such  a  supposition  is  now  to  me  utterly  preposterous  (1858). 


192  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

among  other  important  nations  as  their  enemy,  it  would  be  a  very 
different  feeling  towards  us  that  it  would  lead  to,  from  the  remem- 
brance of  us  as  their  old  and  only  enemy ;  so  that  not  only  was 
our  original  share  of  the  hostile  feeling  of  the  people  of  England 
a  very  small  one,  being  principally  confined  to  the  king  and  his 
sycophants,  and  the  idolaters  of  the  divine  right,  but  the  pugna- 
cious element  in  the  nature  of  an  Englishman,  of  our  day,  is 
directed  by  much  more  vivid  remembrances  towards  France,  or 
Spain,  or  Germany,  than  towards  us. 

Altogether,  considering  the  exceedingly  queer  company  English 
travelers  seem  usually  to  keep  when  in  the  United  States,  and  the 
atrocious  caricatures  in  which,  with  few  exceptions,  they  have 
represented  our  manners  and  customs  to  their  countrymen,  I  was 
surprised  at  the  general  respect  and  the  degree  of  correct  appre- 
ciation of  us  that  I  commonly  found.  There  is  no  country,  not 
covered  by  a  British  flag,  in  the  world  that  the  British  of  1850 
have  any  thing  like  the  degree  of  sympathy  with,  and  affection 
for,  that  they  have  for  the  United  States. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  happily  evident,  that  since  our  war 
with  Mexico  has  given  us  a  new  military  glory,  it  has  also  di- 
verted our  national  combativeness,  in  a  degree,  from  our  old 
enemy ;  and  since  the  general  intercommunication  between  the 
countries  has  been  made  so  much  more  frequent  and  speedy,  and 
cheaper  than  it  used  to  be,  the  disposition  of  our  people  towards 
the  British  has  been  much  less  suspicious,  guarded,  and  quarrel- 
some than  it  very  naturally,  if  not  very  reasonably,  was,  until 
within  a  few  years. 


OPINIONS  differing  with  the  views  I  have  presented  having 
been  lately  expressed  by  several  persons  in  honorable  positions, 
for  one  at  least  of  whom  I  entertain  the  highest  respect,  I  wish 


ENGLISH  OPINION  OF  AMERICA.  193 

to  repeat  that,  in  the  five  months  during  which  I  traveled  in  Great 
Britain,  in  almost  every  day  of  which  time  I  heard  the  United 
States  talked  about  with  every  appearance  of  candor  and  honesty, 
I  do  not  recollect  to  have  heard  any  expression  of  hostile  feeling 
(except  frpm  a  few  physical-force  Chartists,  with  regard  to  sla- 
very) towards  our  government  or  our  people,  and  only  from  a 
few  stanch  Church-and- State  men,  against  our  principles  of  gov- 
ernment. Perhaps  the  highest  eulogy  on  Washington  ever  put 
in  words  was  written  by  Lord  Brougham.  The  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington lately  took  part  in  a  banquet  in  honor  of  American  inde- 
pendence. Having  observed  that  Mr.  Howard  was  threatened 
with  a  mob,  for  keeping  an  English  ensign  flying  from  a  corner 
of  the  Irving  House,  I  will  add  that  I  more  than  once  saw  the 
American  ensign  so  displayed  in  England,  without  exciting  re- 
mark ;  and  I  know  one  gentleman  living  in  the  country  who 
regularly  sets  it  over  his  house  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  salutes 
it  with  gun-firing  and  festivities ;  so  that  the  day  is  well  known, 
and  kindly  regarded  by  all  his  neighbors,  as  "  the  American 
holiday." 

The  following  paragraph  is  the  commencement  of  a  "leader" 
in  the  London  Times,  the  organ  not  of  the  Government,  as  is 
supposed  by  many  who  do  not  see  it  in  the  United  States,  but  of 
a  power  stronger  than  the  Government.  I  quote  it  as  confirma- 
tion of  my  view  of  the  way  in  which  the  American  Revolution  is 
regarded  in  England: 

"  One  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  formation  of  our  prin- 
cipal plantations  in  North  America,  the  sense  of  a  common  wrong 
and  a  common  danger  drove  thirteen  loyal  English  communities 
most  reluctantly  to  form  themselves  into  a  Congress  for  mutual 
defense  and  protection.  The  hint  was  not  taken,  the  same  rash 
and  overbearing  policy  was  persisted  in,  the  wisdom  of  Burke 

and  the  eloquence  of  Chatham  were  poured  forth  in  vain,  the  star 
13 


194  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

of  our  ascendancy  gradually  waned,  and  a  dominion  planted  by 
our  own  hands,  an  empire  boundless  in  extent,  fertility,  and  nat- 
ural resources,  the  proudest  exploit  of  the  nation,  the  noblest 
proof  and  offspring  of  our  civilization,  was  violently  rent  from  us 
for  ever.  One  would  have  thought  that  so  signal  and  disgraceful 
a  calamity,  so  terrible  an  exception  to  that  career  of  prosperity 
with  which  we  have  been  blessed,  would  have  made  an  indelible 
impression  on  the  then  present  and  all'future  generations,  and  that 
a  dread  of  quarrels  with  our  colonies,  and  an  aversion  to  union 
between  them,  would  be  among  the  traditional  instincts  of  the 
empire.  It  is  now  sixty  years  since  we  set  ourselves  to  repair, 
in  the  great  southeastern  continent  of  Australia,  the  disgraces  and 
reverses  which  our  arms  and  policy  had  sustained  on  the  shores 
of  the  Northwest." 


PAINTINGS.  195 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Paintings  —  Cromwell  —  Pastoral  Ships  —  Family  Portraits  and  Distant 
Relations  —  Family  Apartments  —  Personal  Cleanliness  —  The  Wrekin. 


pictures  which  most  interested  me  were  portraits  of 
-"-  Cromwell  and  Charles,  one  of  Rubens,  two  of  very  beautiful 
women  of  the  family  by  Sir  Peter  Lely,  a  female  face  by  Carlo 
Dolci,  and  two  or  three  little  things  by  Rubens.  The  portrait  of 
Cromwell  appears  as  if  he  might  have  sat  for  it,  as,  if  I  remem- 
ber rightly,  is  asserted.  It  looks  like  one's  idea  of  him,  but  not 
in  the  best  light  of  his  character  —  a  deep  melancholy,  stern,  and 
somewhat  sour  face. 

There  is  a  large  landscape  representing  a  brook  tumbling  over 
a  rock  into  the  sea,  on  which  is  a  fleet  of  shipping.  The  story 
is,  that  it  was  painted  by  a  French  artist  on  a  visit  here,  and 
when  first  exhibited  had,  in  place  of  the  sea,  a  broad  meadow 
through  which  the  brook  meandered.  Lady  -  suggested  that 
a  few  sheep  on  the  broad,  green  ground  of  the  meadow  would  be 
a  pleasing  addition.  "Sheeps!  mi  lady?"  said  the  chagrined 
artist,  "  suppose  you  better  like  it  with  sheeps,  I  shall  make  de 
sheeps  ;"  and  so  he  painted  a  blue  sea  over  the  green  meadow, 
and  abruptly  embouched  his  brook  into  it,  that  he  might  appro- 
priately gratify  Lady  -  's  maritime  penchant. 


196  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Among  the  family  portraits  one  was  shown  having  a  title  that 
sounded  familiarly  to  us,  and,  after  a  moment's  thought,  we  both 
remembered  it  to  be  that  of  the  single  nobleman,  whom  an  anti- 
quarian friend  had  informed  us  that  our  family  had  been,  long 
before  its  emigration,  connected  with  by  marriage.  If  it  had 
been  a  Scotch  castle,  we  might  perhaps  have  felt  ourselves  more 
at  home  in  consequence.  It  was  an  odd  coincidence,  and  made 
us  realize  the  relationship  of  our  democracy,  even  to  aristocratic 
England,  quite  vividly. 

In  consideration  of  this,  I  think  I  may  say  a  few  words  of  the 
private  apartments  of  the  family,  through  nearly  all  which,  appa- 
rently, we  were  shown.  They  were  comparatively  small,  not 
larger  or  more  numerous,  and  certainly  not  as  expensively  furn- 
ished as  those  of  many  of  our  New  York  merchants ;  but  some 
of  them  were  delightful,  and  would  be  most  tempting  of  covet- 
ousness  to  a  man  of  domestic  tastes,  or  to  a  lover  of  art  or  of  lit- 
erary ease.  Generally,  there  was  exquisite  taste  evident  in  colors 
and  arrangements,  and  forms  of  furniture,  and  there  were  proofs 
of  high  artistic  skill  in  some  members  of  the  family,  as  well  as  a 
general  love  and  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  and  the  excellent. 
Some  of  the  rooms  were  painted  in  very  high  colors,  deep  blue 
and  scarlet  and  gold,  and  in  bizarre  figures  and  lines.  I  hardly 
could  tell  how  it  would  please  me  if  I  were  accustomed  to  it,  but 
I  did  not  much  admire  it  at  first  sight,  and  it  did  not  seem  Eng- 
lish or  home-like.  It  is  just  the  thing  for  New  York  though,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  you'll  soon  see  the  fashion  introduced  there,  and 
dining-rooms,  dressing-rooms,  counting-rooms,  and  steamboat 
state-rooms,  all  equally  flaring. 

The  bed-chambers  and  dressing-rooms  were  so  furnished  as  to 
look  exceedingly  cosy  and  comfortable,  but  there  was  nothing 
very  remarkable  about  them  except,  perhaps,  the  great  prepara- 
tion made  for  washing  the  person.  I  confess,  if  I  had  been 


THE  WREKIN.  197 


quartered  in  one  of  them,  I  should  have  needed  all  my  Yankee 
capabilities  to  guess  in  what  way  I  could  make  a  good  use  of 
it  all. 

There  is  a  story  told  of  two  members  of  our  Legislature,  who 
came  together  from  "  the  rural  districts,"  and  were  fellow-lodgers. 
One  of  them  was  rather  mortified  by  the  rough  appearance  of  his 
companion,  who  was  of  the  "bone-and-sinew"  sort,  and  by  way 
of  opening  a  conversation  in  which  he  could  give  him  a  few  hints, 
complained  of  the  necessity  which  a  Representative  was  under  to 
pay  so  much  for  "washing."  "How  often  do  you  shift?"  said 
the  Hon.  Simon  Pure.  "  Of  course  I  have  to  change  my  linen 
every  day,"  he  answered.  "  You  do  ?"  responded  his  unabashed 
friend.  "  Why,  what  an  awful  dirty  man  you  must  be !  I  can 
always  make  mine  last  a  week." 

The  ball-room,  or  ancient  banqueting-room,  was  a  grand  hall 
(120  feet  long,  I  should  think),  with  a  good  deal  of  interesting 
old  furniture,  armor,  relics,  etc.  It  also  contained  billiard-tables, 
and  other  conveniences  for  in-door  exercise.  A  secret  door,  cut 
through  the  old  oak  wainscot  which  lined  its  wall,  admitted  us  to 
the  private  apartments. 

We  peeped  into  a  kind  of  broad  well  into  which  prisoners  used 
to  be  lowered,  like  butter,  for  safe  keeping,  and  ascended  to  the 
battlements  of  one  of  the  towers,  from  which  there  is  a  very  ex- 
tensive  and  beautiful  view,  extending,  it  is  said,  into  sixteen 
counties.  A  gauzy  blue  swelling  on  the  horizon  was  pointed  to 
as  the  Wrekin,  a  high  mountain — the  highest  in  midland  England ; 
hence  the  generous  old  toast,  "  To  all  around  the  Wrekin."  We 
were  let  out  through  a  narrow  postern,  which  gave  us  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  the  thickness  of  the  wall :  it  was  ten  feet — and  in 
some  parts  it  was  said  to  be  sixteen — of  solid  stone  and  mortar. 
The  castle  was  a  border  fortress  of  Wales,  on  the  dyke  or  ancient 
military  wall  between  that  country  and  England,  remains  of 


198  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

which  can  be  seen  running  each  way  from  it.  It  has  withstood 
many  sieges,  the  last  by  Cromwell,  the  effect  of  whose  artillery 
is  largely  manifest  within  the  court.  A  decree  of  the  Long  Par- 
liament is  on  record  ordering  it  to  be  razed  to  the  ground. 


VISIT  TO  A  FARM.  199 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Visit  to  a  Farm  —  Farm-House  and  Farmery  —  Fatting  Cattle  —  Sheep  — 
Vetches — Stack  Yard  —  Steam  Threshing — Turnip  Sowing  —  Excellent 
Work  —  Tram  Eoad — Wages. 

TN  the  afternoon  we  were  taken  to  visit  a  farmer  who  was  con- 
•*•  sidered  to  be  about  the  best  in  the  district  (Shropshire).  The 
house  was  in  the  middle  of  a  farm  of  three  hundred  acres,  and 
was  approached  by  a  narrow  lane ;  there  were  no  "  grounds"  but 
a  little  court-yard,  with  a  few  trees  in  it,  in  front  of  the  house, 
which  was  a  snug,  two-story,  plain  brick  building. 

On  entering,  we  found  the  farmer,  a  stout  elderly  man,  sitting 
alone  at  a  dinner-table,  on  which  were  dishes  of  fruit  and  decan- 
ters. He  insisted  on  our  joining  him,  and  we  were  obliged  to  sit 
some  time  with  him  over  his  wine,  while  he  talked  of  free  trade, 
and  questioned  us  how  low  we  could  afford  to  send  wheat  from 
America,  and  how  large  the  supply  was  likely  to  be. 

He  then  led  us  into  the  farmery,  which  was  close  by  the  house, 
the  rear  door  almost  opening  into  a  cattle-yard.  I  mention  this, 
as  it  would  be  considered  extraordinary  for  an  American,  who 
could  afford  wines  at  his  dinner,  to  be  content  with  such  an  ar- 
rangement. There  was  not  the  least  attempt  at  ornament  any- 
where to  be  seen,  beyond  the  few  trees  and  rose-bushes  in  the 


200  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

enclosure  of  a  rod  or  two,  in  front  of  the  house :  not  the  least 
regard  had  been  had  to  beauty  except  the  beauty  of  fitness ;  but 
every  thing  was  neat,  useful,  well-ordered,  and  thoroughly  made, 
of  the  best  material  —  the  barns,  stables,  and  out-buildings  of 
hewn  stone,  with  slated  roofs,  grout  floors,  and  iron  fixtures.  The 
cattle  stables  were  roomy,  well  ventilated  and  drained,  their 
mangers  of  stone  and  iron  ;  fastenings,  sliding  chains ;  food,  fresh- 
cut  vetches,  and  the  cattle  standing  knee  deep  in  straw. 

The  fatting  cattle  were  the  finest  lot  I  ever  saw,  notwithstand- 
ing the  forty  finest  cows  that  had  been  wintered,  had  been  sold 
within  a  fortnight.  These  forty  had  been  fattened  on  ruta  baga 
and  oil-cake,  and  their  average  weight  was  over  10  cwt.,  some  of 
them  weighing  over  12  cwt.  They  were  mostly  shorthorns. 
Those  remaining  were  mostly  Hereford  bullocks. 

Sheep  were  fattening  on  a  field  of  heavy  vetches :  Cheviots 
and  Leicester,  and  crosses  of  these  breeds. 

The  VETCH  is  a  plant  in  appearance  something  like  a  dwarf 
pea ;  it  is  sown  in  the  autumn  upon  wheat  stubble,  grows  very 
rapidly,  and  at  this  season  gives  a  fine  supply  of  green  food, 
when  it  is  very  valuable.  It  requires  a  rich,  clean  soil,  but  grows 
well  on  clay  lands.  I  think  it  has  not  been  found  to  succeed  well 
in  the  United  States. 

In  the  rear  of  the  barns  was  a  yard  half  filled  with  very  large 
and  beautifully  made-up  stacks  of  hay,  wheat,  oats  and  peas. 
The  hay  was  of  rye-grass,  a  much  finer  (smaller)  sort  than  our 
timothy.  The  peas  were  thatched  with  wheat-straw.  The  grain 
stacks  were  very  beautiful,  several  of  them  had  stood  three  years, 
and  could  not  be  distinguished  from  those  made  last  year.  The 
butts  of  the  straw  had  been  all  turned  over  at  regular  distances, 
those  of  one  tier  to  the  top  of  that  below  it,  and  driven  in,  so  the 
stack  appeared  precisely  as  if  it  had  been  served  with  straw-rope, 
and  I  supposed  that  it  had  been,  until  I  was  told.  The  thresh- 


MODEL  FARMING.  '         201 


ing  of  the  farm  is  done  by  steam,  the  engine  being  in  the  stack- 
yard, the  furnace  under  ground,  and  the  smoke  and  sparks  being 
carried  off  by  a  subterranean  flue  to  a  tall  chimney  a  hundred 
yards  distant.  (I  have  seen  a  hundred  steam-engines  in  stack- 
yards since,  without  this  precaution,  and  never  heard  of  a  fire 
occasioned  by  the  practice.) 

The  grain  on  the  farm  had  all  been  sowed  in  drills.  The  pro- 
prietor said  that  if  he  could  be  sure  of  having  the  seed  perfectly 
distributed,  he  should  prefer  broad-cast  sowing  (t.  e.,  as  well  as 
a  first-rate  sower  could  distribute  it  in  a  perfectly  calm  day). 
The  wheat  was  the  strongest  we  have  yet  seen,  and  of  remark- 
ably equal  height,  and  uniform  dark  color.  The  ground  was 
almost  wholly  free  from  weeds,  and  the  wheat  was  not  expected 
to  be  hoed. 

We  found  fourteen  men  engaged  in  preparing  a  field  for  tur- 
nips ;  opening  drills  with  plough,  carting  dung,  which  had  been 
heaped  up,  turned  and  made  fine ;  distributing  it  along  the  drills ; 
plows  covering  it  immediately,  and  forming  ridges  27  inches 
apart  over  it ;  after  all,  a  peculiar  iron  roller,  formed  so  as  to  fit 
the  ridges  and  furrows,  followed ;  leaving  the  field  precisely  like 
a  fluted  collar.  The  ridges  were  as  straight  as  the  lines  of  a 
printed  page ;  and  any  inequality  to  the  hight  of  half  an  inch, 
was  removed  by  the  equal  pressing  of  the  roller.  A  more  per- 
fect piece  of  work  could  not  be  conceived  of.  Seed  (3  Ibs.  to  the 
acre)  will  be  sown  immediately  on  the  ridges,  by  a  machine 
opening,  seeding,  closing  and  rolling  six  drills  at  once.  The  field 
is  thorough  drained  (as  is  all  the  farm,  three  feet  deep)  and  sub- 
soil plowed. 

I  saw  no  farming  that  pleased  me  better  than  this,  in  all  Eng- 
land. It  was  no  gentleman  or  school  farming,  but  was  directed 
by  an  old  man,  all  his  life  a  farmer,  on  a  leased  farm,  without 
the  least  thought  of  taste  or  fancy  to  be  gratified,  but  with  an  eye 


202  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

single  to  quick  profit;  with  a  prejudice  against  "high  farming," 
indeed,  because  it  is  advised  by  the  free-traders  as  a  remedy 
for  low  prices.  He  declared  no  money  was  to  be  made  by  farm- 
ing :  do  his  best,  he  could  not  pay  his  rent  and  leave  himself  a 
profit  under  the  present  prices.  He  had  been  holding  on  to  his 
wheat  for  three  years  in  hopes  of  a  rise,  but  now  despaired  of  it, 
except  the  protective  policy  was  returned  to. 

There  was  a  coal  mine  and  lime-kiln  within  the  boundary  of 
the  farm,  and  a  tram-road  from  it  to  the  railroad  about  two  miles 
distant.  A  tram-road  is  a  narrow  track  of  wooden  rails,  on  which 
cars  are  moved  by  stationary  power  or  horses.  On  extensive 
farms  they  might  be  advantageously  made  use  of.  A  road  run- 
ning through  the  barns  and  out-buildings  of  a  farmstead,  on  which 
straw,  feed,  dung,  etc.,  could  be  easily  moved  by  hand,  would 
cost  but  little,  and  often  afford  a  great  saving  of  labor. 

The  fences  were  all  of  hawthorn,  low  and  close-trimmed. 

The  farm  servants  had  from  $65  to  $75  a  year  and  their 
board.  (The  very  next  day  a  man  told  me  he  paid  just  half 
these  sums.)  Day-laborers  from  $2  to  $2.50  a  week  (fair 
weather)  and  board  themselves.  A  boy  just  over  fourteen  years 
old  (under  which  age  it  is  by  law  forbidden)  told  me  he  worked 
in  the  coal  mines  for  sixteen  cents  a  day. 


ENGLISH  COMMON  SCHOOLS.  203 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Visit  to  Two  English  Common  Schools. 

TN  compliance  with  our  desire  to  visit  an  English  common 
•*•  school,  we  were  driven  from  the  castle  to  a  village  in  the  vi- 
cinity, in  which  was  a  school  for  boys,  under  the  guidance  of  the 
British  and  Foreign  Society,  and  one  for  girls  under  the  control 
of  the  National  or  State  Church  Society.  The  schoolhouse  of 
the  former  was  a  simple  but  tasteful  stone  building,  standing  a 
little  to  one  side,  but  not  fenced  off,  from  the  principal  street, 
with  a  few  large  trees  and  a  playground  about  it.  The  interior 
was  all  in  one  room,  except  a  small  vestibule.  It  was  well  light- 
ed, the  walls  were  plastered  and  whitewashed,  and  had  mottoes, 
texts  of  Scripture,  tables,  charts,  etc.,  hung  upon  them ;  there 
was  no  ceiling,  but  the  rafters  of  the  roof,  which  was  high-peaked, 
were  exposed ;  the  floor  was  of  stone.  There  were  long  desks 
and  benches  all  around  against  the  wall,  and  others,  the  form  of 
which  I  do  not  remember,  filling  up  the  most  of  the  body.  The 
house  and  furniture  was  much  too  small  and  scanty  for  the  num- 
ber of  scholars  present,  and  the  labor  of  the  teacher  must  have 
been  very  arduous. 

The  boys  all  rose  as  we  entered,  and  remained  standing  dur- 
ing our  visit,  a  request  from  us  that  they  might  be  seated  not  be- 


204  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

ing  regarded.  Classes  in  arithmetic,  geography  and  spelling 
were  examined  before  us.  The  absence  of  all  embarrassment, 
and  the  promptness  and  confidence  of  the  scholars  in  replying 
to  our  questions,  was  remarkable.  In  mental  arithmetic  great 
proficiency  was  shown  in  complicate  reductions  of  sterling 
money.  In  geography  their  knowledge  of  America  was  limited 
to  the  more  important  points  of  information,  but  so  far  as  it  went 
was  very  accurate  and  ready.  With  regard  to  Great  Britain, 
their  information  was  minute.  The  boys  were  bright,  ready- 
witted  and  well-behaved,  and  surprisingly  free  from  all  excite- 
ment or  embarrassment  before  strangers. 

The  schoolmaster  was  also  parish-clerk,  and  his  pay  from  the 
two  offices  was  about  $500  a  year.*  I  judge  that  he  had  in- 
tended to  make  teaching  his  business  for  life,  and  had  thoroughly 
prepared  and  accomplished  himself  for  it.  His  manner  to  us, 
and  two  or  three  incidents  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  relate, 
gave  me  the  impression  that  his  position  in  society  was  far  from 
being  a  pleasant,  or  what  we  should  deem  a  proper  one  for  a 
teacher. 

The  "  National  School "  for  girls  was  a  building  of  more  high- 
ly finished  architectural  character,  and  had  a  dwelling  for  the 
schoolmistress  attached  to  it.  The  whole  school  was  engaged  in 
sewing  when  we  entered,  the  mistress,  assisted  by  some  of  the 
older  scholars,  going  from  one  to  another,  giving  instructions  and 
examining  the  work.  It  was  not  interrupted  by  our  entrance, 
though  the  girls  all  rose,  curtseyed,  and  continued  standing. 
There  were  one  hundred  and  thirty  present  in  a  room  about 
twelve  yards  by  six  in  area.  The  girls  were  neatly,  though  ex- 
ceedingly plainly,  dressed,  and  were  generally  very  pleasing  in 

*  Advertisements  for  common  school  teachers,  "  capable  to  instruct  in  reading,  writing, 
arithmetic  and  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion,"  appear  in  the  Times,  offering 
salaries  of  from  $150  to  $300,  with  lodging  and  board. 


THE  NATIONAL  SCHOOL  FOR  GIRLS,  205 

their  appearance.     They  seemed  well  instructed,  and  without 
the  least  want  of  desirable  modesty,  showed  much  more  presence 
of  mind,  and  answered  our  questions  with  more  promptness  and 
distinctness  than  any  school  of  girls  I  ever  visited  before. 
Both  schools  are  conducted  on  the  Lancasterian  plan. 


206  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Shrewsbury  —  Angling  in  Curricles  —  Sheep-walks  —  Effect  of  Thorough 
Draining  on  Dry  Soils — Gorse  —  Church  Stretton — Churchyard  Litera- 
ture —  Encounter  with  an  enthusiastic  Free-Trader.  * 

Shrewsbury,  June  7th. 

TT7E  arrived  at  this  fine  old  town  by  rail,  this  morning,  and 
have  again  had  much  delight  in  ancient  domestic  town  ar- 
chitecture. The  houses  are  of  the  same  general  style  as  those  at 
Chester,  but  with  every  conceivable  variation  of  form,  and  each 
with  something  peculiar  to  itself,  so  that  we  cannot  tire  of  ramb- 
ling through  the  steep,  narrow  streets  to  study  them.  There  are 
a  great  many  old  churches,  too :  one  remarkable  for  a  very  light, 
tall,  simply-tapering  spire ;  another,  the  abbey  church,  has  a  great 
mingling  of  styles,  and  in  some  parts  is  very  rich  and  elegant. 
Near  it  I  noticed  that  some  religious  house,  once  connected  with 
it,  had  been  built  upon,  roofed  over,  and  converted  into  a  brew- 
ery. The  roofs  are  universally  of  flat  tiles  here ;  a  few  miles 
north  we  saw  nothing  but  slates. 

On  one  of  the  bridges  over  the  Severn,  which  here  divides  into 
two  small  streams,  between  which  most  of  the  town  is  beautifully 
situated,  we  saw  a  number  of  anglers  with  curricles,  a  light  port- 
able boat  made  of  hide,  stretched  out  like  an  umbrella-top  by  a 


GORSE—  UNDER-DRAINING.  207 

wicker  frame.  It  is  easily  carried  on  one  arm,  and  forms  a  usual 
part  of  a  salmon-fisher's  equipment  in  Wales. 

In  the  afternoon  J.  and  I  walked  on  to  Church  Stretton,  thir- 
teen miles ;  our  road,  most  of  the  way,  through  a  level  valley, 
with  high,  naked,  bleak  hills  on  each  side.  A  man  joined  us  who 
had  been  most  of  his  life  a  miller,  and  had  lately  rented  a  sheep- 
walk  of  sixty-three  acres  on  one  of  these  hill-tops,  or,  rather, 
mountain-tops.  They  are  to  all  appearance  totally  barren,  except 
of  gorse,  and  he  said  he  could  only  stock  at  the  rate  of  one  and  a 
half  sheep  to  the  acre. 

Gorse  (furze  or  whins)  is  an  evergreen  shrub,  growing  about 
three  feet  high,  rough,  thorny,  prickly ;  flourishes  in  the  poorest, 
dryest  land,  where,  if  it  gets  possession,  it  is  extremely  difficult 
to  eradicate.  It  is  sometimes  used  as  a  hedge  plant,  and  for  that 
purpose  is  planted  thickly  on  high  ridges.  In  some  parts  of 
England  fuel  is  made  of  it,  and  when  bruised  by  powerful 
machines  made  for  the  purpose,  it  forms  palatable  and  nutritious 
food  for  horses  and  cattle.  Hereabouts,  however,  we  could  not 
learn  that  it  was  made  of  any  use,  or  regarded  otherwise  than  as 
a  weed.  Half  the  surface  of  the  hills  was  overgrown  with  it. 

A  strange  story  has  been  told  me  of  the  effect  of  draining  on 
soils  of  this  sort.  A  considerable  estate,  mainly  on  the  tops  of 
such  hills,  having  come  into  possession  of  a  friend  of  my  inform- 
ant, he  immediately  commenced  under-draining  it  in  the  most 
thorough  and  expensive  manner.  The  whole  country  thought 
him  crazy.  "  Why !  the  hills  were  too  dry  already  —  the  man 
was  throwing  away  his  money;"  and  his  family  interposed  with 
expostulation  and  entreaty  to  check  what  they  deemed  a  ruinous 
and  disgraceful  "folly."  But  he  patiently  carried  it  on,  and 
waited  the  result ;  which  was,  that  the  increased  rental  in  a  very 
short  time  more  than  paid  for  the  whole  outlay,  and  the  actual 
value  of  the  land  was  trebled. 


208  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Church  Stretton  is  a  little  village  mostly  made  up  of  inns  on 
the  main  street.  We  chose  the  Stag's  Head,  a  picturesque, 
many-gabled  cottage,  part  of  it  very  old,  and,  as  we  were  told, 
formerly  a  manor-house  of  the  Earl  of  Derby,  who  spent  one 
night  (ever  to  be  remembered !)  in  it.  It  was  close  by  a  curi- 
ously-carved church,  and  graveyard.  From  among  a  great  many 
"  improving"  epitaphs,  I  select  the  following  as  worthy  of  more 
extended  influence: 

i. 

A  NON  SEQUITCB. 

"  Farewell,  my  wife 
And  children  dear,  in  number  seven, 
Therefore  prepare  yourself  for  Heaven." 

II. 

"AN  HONEST  MAN." 

"Erected  by  the  Curate  of  Church  Stretton." 

III. 

"  Farewell,  rain  world,  I  have  seen  my  last  of  thee ; 
Thy  smiles  I  court  not,  frowns  I  fear, 
My  cares  are  past,  my  head  lies  quiet  here, 
My  time  was  short  in  this  world,  my  work  is  done, 
My  rest  I  hope  is  in  another, 
In  a  quiet  grave  I  lie,  near  my  beloved  mother." 

IV. 

"  A  Friend  so  true, 
There  is  but  few, 
And  difficult  to  find ; 
A  man  more  just, 
And  true  to  trust, 
There  is  not  left  behind." 

V. 

"  You  that  are  young,  behold  and  see 
How  quickly  death  has  conquered  me  ; 
His  fatal  shaft  it  was  so  strong, 
And  cut  me  off  while  I  was  young, 
But  God  above,  He  knew  for  why, 
That  in  my  youth  I  was  to  die." 


A  MERCANTILE  AGENT.  209 

The  following,  or  something  very  like  it,  is  to  be  found  in  al- 
most every  churchyard  in  England,  often  several  times  repeated : 

VI. 

"Afflictions  sore 
Long  time  I  bore, 
Physicians'  aid  was  vain; 
Till  God  did  please 
To  give  me  ease, 
And  free  me  from  my  pain." 

On  the  other  side  of  the  churchyard  were  two  long  rows  of 
cottages  built  closely  together,  the  street  between  them  only  nine 
feet  wide. 

After  ordering  supper,  we  were  shown  into  a  little  room  where 
there  was  a  fire  and  newspapers,  and  two  men  sitting.  One  of 
them  was  a  young,  well-dressed  farmer,  stupid  and  boozy ;  the 
other  a  traveling  mercantile  agent,  very  wide  awake.  The  latter 
almost  immediately  opened  conversation. 

"  Did  you  notice  the  white  nag  in  the  stables,  gents  ?" 

"No." 

"  Ah,  you  should.  It's  not  every  day  you'll  see  such  a  horse. 
It  would  be  really  worth  your  while,  if  I  may  be  permitted  to 
advise,  to  step  out  and  see  him.  Why !  if  you'll  believe  me,  sir, 
I  we  gave  the  stage-coach  twenty  minutes  start  and  beat  her  two 
and  a  half  in  eight,  besides  stopping — how  many  times  ? — a  go 
|  of  gin  first  and — two  of  brandy  afterwards,  wasn't  it  Brom?  and 
I  now  there  he  is — eating  his  oats  just  like  a  child !" 

We  showed  no  disposition  to  see  this  phenomenon,  but  putting 
knapsacks  on  the  table,  had  commenced  reading  the  papers, 
jwhen  he  again  addressed  us,  suddenly  exclaiming, 

"Hem — wool's  heavy!" 

"What,  sir?" 

"Hops  scarce?" 
14 


210  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

"What?" 

"Sheffil  line?" 

" ! "     (Stare  of  perplexity.) 

li  Tea  ?  "  glancing  at  our  packs. 

"Tea!  oh  no!" 

''  Oh,  I  thought  it  might  be  tea  you  were Brummagem 

way?" 

"We  are—" 

«  Oh !  ah !     Good  market  at  Le'm'ster  ?" 

"  We  are  from  New  York — traveling  merely  to  see  the  coun- 
try ;  our  packs  have — " 

"  From  New  York  ?  why,  that's  in  America." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  we  are  Americans." 

"  What !  Americans,  are  you  ?  Hallo !  why,  this  is  interest- 
ing. Brom !  I  say,  Brom ! — look !  do  you  see  ?  from  America ; 
you  see  ?  furriners !  If  you  will  permit  me,  sir — your  very  good 
health,  gentlemen.  Brom !  (damn  it,  man,)  your  health  —  their 

health Now  look  here!  you'll  allow  me,  sir  (and  he 

caught  my  leg)  ;  you  brought  this,  I  presume,  from  New  York  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Made  there?" 

"  Probably." 

"And  the  wool?" 

"  Very  likely  from  these  hills." 

"  Exactly,  sir ;  exactly  !  You  see  now,  Brom  —  what  was  I 
telling  you  ? — that's  FREE  TRADE,  Brom.  Most  happy  to  meet 
you,  sir ;  (intelligent  persons,  Brom !  first-class  furriners ;)  you 
are  welcome  here,  sir ;  and,  gentlemen — (your  good  health,  sir) 
— and  no  one  to  molest  or  make  you  afraid — (won't  you  try  the 
gin  ?  I  can  recommend  it) — wandering  up  and  down,  seeking 
what  you  may,  eh  ? — see !  Yes,  sir,  the  sea  is  the  highway  of 
nations— else  what  is  it  mentioned  in  Scripture  for  ?  '  the  great 


AW  ENTHUSIASTIC  FREE-TRADER. 


211 


sea  —  to  bring  nations  together  —  with  ships  thereon,  stretching 
from  Tiberia  to  Siberias,  and  from  Jericher  to/  eh  ? — hem — eh  ? 
— somewhere!" 

"Your  tea  is  ready,  gentlemen,"  said  the  waiter;  and  we 
hastily  took  leave. 


212  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

Country  Carrier's  Cart  —  Independent  Breakfast  —  Beauty  —  Old  Inn  — 
Jack  up  the  Chimney — Bacon  and  Bread — Beer  and  Rum  — Ludlow  — 
An  Apostolic  Church  —  The  Poor-House  —  Case  of  a  Broken  Heart — Re- 
freshment 

T17E  rose  the  next  morning  at  daybreak,  and  walked  some 
miles  before  we  saw  any  body  else  awake.  At  the  first 
public  house  we  found  open,  we  stopped  to  breakfast.  In  front 
of  it  was  a  carrier's  cart — a  large,  heavy,  hooped,  canvas-topped 
cart,  drawn  by  one  horse.  As  any  body  who  reads  Dickens 
knows,  this  kind  of  rural  package-express  is  a  common  thing  on 
the  English  roads,  the  carrier  taking  orders  of  country  people  for 
what  they  need  from  the  towns,  and  bringing  them  any  parcels 
they  send  for ;  taking  live  freight  also  when  he  is  not  otherwise 
filled  up :  David  Copperfield,  for  instance.  The  representative 
of  "Mr.  Barkis"  and  "honest  John  Peerybingle"  was  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  public  house,  and  very  glad  to  see  us,  pressing  us 
politely  to  drink  from  his  glass,  and  recommending  the  ale  as  the 
best  on  the  road. 

The  house,  however,  was  of  a  very  humble  character ;  the 
"  good  woman"  was  gone  to  market,  and  the  landlord,  though 
very  amiable  and  desirous  to  please,  was  very  stupid  and  ill- 
provided.  He  could  not  even  find  us  an  egg,  every  thing  having 


RUINS  OF  A  CASTLE.  213 

been  swept  off  to  market.  There  was  some  good  bread,  however, 
which  the  carrier  had  just  brought,  and  milk.  "We  found  a  sauce- 
pan, cleaned  it,  and  scalded  the  milk,  and,  stirring  in  the  bread 
with  pepper  and  salt,  soon  made  a  comfortable  hot  breakfast, 
greatly  to  the  admiration  of  our  host  and  the  carrier. 

Fine  English  weather  to-day :  gleams  of  warm,  thick  sunshine 
alternating  with  slight  showers  of  rain.  The  country  beautiful ; 
the  road  running  through  a  rich,  well-watered  vale,  with  the  same 
high,  steep  hills  as  yesterday,  but  now  regularly  planted  with 
wood  to  the  summits.  Before  us  they  fall  back,  one  over  another, 
till  they  become  blue  under  the  thick  mists  that  curl  about  the 
tops  of  the  most  distant,  and  then,  again,  blush  red  before  the  sun, 
when  the  breeze  lifts  this  veil. 

Seeing  a  singular  ruin  a  little  distance  from  the  road,  we  went 
to  visit  it.  It  had  been  a  castle,  with  a  church  or  large  Gothic 
chapel  attached.  Different  parts  of  it,  having  received  more 
modern,  yet  ruinously  decayed,  timber  and  noggin  additions,  were 
occupied  as  sheep-stables,  granary,  and  workshop.  A  moat  re- 
mained about  it,  enclosing  also  a  court-yard ;  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  this  from  the  main  structure,  was  a  high,  four-gabled  tim- 
ber-house, with  a  gateway  through  it,  entered  across  the  moat  by 
a  bridge,  formerly  a  draw-bridge,  and  with  some  remains  of  a 
portcullis.  The  wood-work  of  the  gables,  and  much  of  the  tim- 
ber, the  heavy  brackets  and  the  doorways,  were  covered  with 
quaint  carvings.  An  interesting  history  it  must  have  had,  yet  all 
we  could  learn  of  it  was,  that  it  was  "  farmer 's  barn." 

At  noon  we  stopped  at  a  superannuated  old  stage-coaching 
house,  going  at  once  to  the  kitchen,  which  was  a  large  room  with 
heavy  beams  in  the  ceiling,  from  which  depended  flitches  of 
bacon ;  a  stone  floor,  a  number  of  oak  benches  and  tables,  rows 
of  pewter  mugs  hanging  about  the  walls,  and  a  great  fireplace 
and  chimney.  A  stout,  driving  landlady  received  our  orders ;  a 


214  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

piece  of  meat  was  set  to  roasting  before  the  fire  on  the  old  turn- 
spit, and  we  were  left  alone  to  dry  ourselves.  Soon  we  noticed 
that  one  end  of  the  spit  with  the  meat  was  being  raised,  and  we 
attempted  in  vain  to  readjust  it.  It  continued  to  rise,  and  I  tried 
to  disconnect  the  chain  by  which  it  was  turned,  and  which  was 
now  drawing  it  up  the  chimney ;  I  could  not,  and  still  it  rose.  I 
clung  to  it,  and  hallooed  for  assistance.  In  rushed  the  landlady, 
three  maids,  and  a  man-servant,  and  I  yielded  the  spit  to  them;  but 
the  power  was  too  strong — their  united  weight  could  not  long  de- 
tain it ;  up  it  rose — rose — rose,  till  the  prettiest  maid  stood  first  on 
tiptoe,  and  then  began  to  scream ;  then  the  landlady,  disengaging 
the  meat  from  it,  and  dropping  it  hastily  on  a  plate,  fell  back  ex- 
hausted on  one  of  the  oak  benches  and  laughed — oh !  ha,  ha !  oh ! 
ha,  ha !  ha,  ha !  ho,  ho !  ha,  ha,  ha! — how  the  woman  did  laugh ! 
As  soon  as  she  recovered,  she  sent  the  man  and  the  maids  up  to 
the  machinery,  being  too  much  out  of  breath  to  go  herself;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  chain,  which  had  fouled  on  the  rusty  crank 
at  the  chimney  top,  was  unwound  and  the  spit  lowered  to  its 
place,  the  joint  put  on  and  set  to  turning  again,  all  right. 

While  we  were  eating  our  dinner,  five  young  men  —  laborers 
— came  in  for  theirs  ;  most  of  them  ate  nothing  but  bread  and 
cheese,  but  some  had  thin  slices  of  bacon  cut  from  the  flitch 
nearest  the  fire,  which  they  themselves  toasted  with  a  fork  and 
ate  with  bread  which  they  had  brought  in  their  pockets,  as  soon 
as  it  was  warmed  through.  All  drank  two  pints  of  beer,  and, 
after  dining,  smoked,  except  one,  who  took  hot  rum-and-water. 

It  appeared  that  while  three  of  them  preferred  to  spend  their 
money  for  beer  rather  than  bacon,  none  of  them  chose  bacon  at 
the  expense  of  beer.  The  man  who  took  rum  drank  two  glasses 
of  it,  and  the  others  two  or  more  pints  of  beer ;  but  no  one  who 
took  beer  took  any  rum  at  all,  nor  did  he  who  took  rum  take  any 
beer.  A  similar  observation  I  have  frequently  made.  The 


LUDLOW.  215 


habit  of  beer-drinking  seems  to  weaken  the  taste  for  more  alco- 
holic stimulants. 

We  remained  about  the  inn,  looking  at  some  pretty  model  cot- 
tages erected  by  Lord  Clive,  until  C.,  who  had  made  a  quick 
walk  of  nearly  thirty  miles  to  overtake  us,  arrived,  and  then 
walked  into  Ludlow. 

Ludlow  is  a  pleasant  town,  beautifully  planted  in  the  bight  of 
a  broad,  shallow,  musical  stream,  amongst  high,  bluffy  hills.  It 
has  a  ruined  castle,  celebrated  in  Royal  history,  parts  of  which, 
hah0  hidden  by  tall  old  trees  among  which  it  stands,  and  adorned 
with  ivy,  are  very  picturesque.  There  are  fine  avenues  and  pub- 
lic walks  about  it,  and  just  over  the  river,  which  is  crossed  by 
two  bridges,  is  a  very  large  common,  extending  to  the  top  of 
high  and  steep  hills,  which  is  used  as  a  public  pleasure-ground. 
In  the  middle  of  the  town  is  a  venerable  old  church,  with  richly 
painted  windows  and  many  curious  monuments  and  effigies  of 
Crusaders  and  learned  doctors  sleeping  with  their  wives.  In  ii 
I  also  first  saw  a  beadle  in  the  flesh,  and  very  funny  it  was,  in 
cocked  hat,  red  nose  and  laced  coat.  There  are  many  curious 
old  houses,  particularly  one  of  the  inns,  ("The  Feathers ;")  and 
over  the  Ludford  bridge  there  is  a  pretty  little  rural  church  and 
a  number  of  pretty  cottages,  both  ancient  and  modern,  the  modern 
being  built  in  the  fashion  of  the  timber  houses  that  I  described 
in  Cheshire. 

Y, 

Our  chess-playing  friend  on  the  ship  had  given  us  a  note  to  a 
relative  residing  here,  and  having  left  it  with  our  card  at  his 
house,  he  very  soon  called  upon  us,  and  was  extremely  kind  in 
his  attentions  and  offers  of  service.  C.  had  asked  with  regard  to 
the  religious  service  which  would  be  held  in  the  town  the  com- 
ing day ;  after  replying  to  his  inquiries,  he  remarked  that  he 
belonged  to  a  congregation  of  Christian  brethren,  whose  worship 


216  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

he  would  be  gratified  if  it  would  be  agreeable  for  us  to  attend. 
They  had  no  distinct  organization,  but  simply  met  as  a  company 
of  believers,  to  worship  as  they  were  prompted  in  the  spirit. 
They  liked  to  have  any  one  join  with  them,  who  loved  Jesus 
Christ,  whatever  his  theoretical  opinion  might  be. 

The  next  morning  I  breakfasted  with  this  gentleman,  and  after- 
wards attended  the  meeting  of  the  brotherhood.  It  was  held  in 
a  plain  "upper  room,"  apparently  designed  for  a  school-room, 
which  was  well  filled  with  people,  representing  every  class,  ex- 
cept the  aristocratic,  in  the  community,  females  being  slightly 
preponderant.  The  services  were  extremely  simple — much  like 
those  of  a  Presbyterian  prayer-meeting,  with  the  addition  of  a 
rather  lengthy  exhortation  from  one  who,  I  was  told,  was,  like 
myself,  a  stranger  to  the  most  of  those  present,  and  concluded 
with  the  administration  of  the  communion. 

Nothing  could  be  greater  than  the  contrast  of  the  place  and  its 
furniture,  and  the  style  of  the  exercises,  with  what  I  had  seen 
and  heard  at  the  cathedral  the  previous  Sunday ;  yet  I  could  not 
but  notice  the  marked  resemblance  between  the  simple  solemnity 
of  manner  and  sincere  unendeavoring  tone  of  the  gentleman  who 
conducted  the  ceremony  of  the  communion,  and  that  of  his  robed 
and  titled  brother  who  performed  the  same  duty  within  those 
aweing  walls. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  with  one  of  "the  brethren"  to  the 
Union  poor-house,  which  is  a  little  out  of  the  town.  The  inmates, 
so  far  as  I  saw  them,  were  nearly  all  aged  persons,  cripples,  or 
apparently  half-witted,  and  it  all  appeared  very  much  like  a  hos- 
pital. The  chilling  neatness,  bareness,  order  and  precision,  re- 
minded me  of  the  berth-deck  of  a  man-of-war.  Among  the  sick 
was  a  young  woman  who  had  now  for  four  days  refused  to  take 
food  or  to  speak ;  when  broth  was  set  before  her  in  our  presence, 
she  merely  moaned  and  shook  her  head,  closed  her  eyes  and  sank 


THE  INDEPENDENT  MINISTER.  217 

back  upon  her  bed.  Her  disease  was  a  broken  heart.  A  week 
ago  her  cottage  was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  her  child  (illegitimate) 
burned  to  death  in  it. 

At  sunset  we  found  much  such  a  company  strolling  on  the 
common  opposite  the  town  as  that  we  saw  promenading  the  walls 
at  Chester  last  Sunday  night.  The  shaded  walks  about  the 
castle  were  also  thick  with  happy-looking,  grateful-looking,  order- 
ly men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  superabundantly  attended  by 
healthy,  sturdily-tottering  babies. 

In  the  evening  C.  called  on  the  Independent  clergyman.  He 
spoke  highly  of  the  spiritual  character  of  the  brethren,  but  he 
evidently  regarded  them  as  rather  wild  and  untractable  abstrac- 
tionists. They  had  drawn  away  several  of  the  leading  members 
of  his  flock,  and,  in  his  observations  upon  them,  he  possibly 
showed  a  little  soreness  on  this  account.  He  continued  on  terms 
of  friendly  intercourse,  however,  with  them. 


218  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXm. 

Physical  Education— A  Rustic  Village  —  Farm-House  Kitchen  —  An  Or- 
chard—  Stables — Leominster  —  A  Trout  Brook — Fruit  Culture. 

Monday,  June  IQth. 

A  FTER  another  breakfast  with  the  Independent  minister,  (the 
•**•  term  clergyman  is  never  applied  in  England  except  to  those 
of  the  established  church,)  he  walked  with  us  for  six  miles  out 
of  town  upon  our  road.  Three  little  boys  and  girls,  the  youngest 
six  years  old,  also  accompanied  us.  They  were  romping  and 
rambling  about  all  the  while,  and  their  morning's  walk  must  have 
been  as  much  as  fifteen  miles ;  but  they  thought  nothing  of  it, 
and,  when  we  parted,  were  apparently  as  fresh  as  when  they 
started,  and  were  very  loth  to  return. 

After  looking  at  several  objects  of  interest  near  the  road,  we 
were  taken  by  a  narrow,  crooked  lane  to  a  small  hamlet  of  pic- 
turesque old  cottages,  in  one  of  which  a  farmer  lived  who  was  a 
parisliioner  of  our  guide's.  It  was  a  pretty,  many-gabled, 
thatched-roofed  timber-house,  almost  completely  covered  with 
vines  and  creepers.  We  were  sorry  to  find  the  farmer  not  at 
home;  his  wife,  an  elderly,  simple-minded  dame,  received  us 
joyfully,  however.  In  entering  the  house,  as  we  have  noticed 
to  be  usual  in  old  buildings,  whatever  their  purpose,  we  found 


AN  ORCHARD.  219 


that  the  stone  floor  of  the  narrow  hall  was  a  step  below  the  street 
and  general  surface  of  the  groiyid  outside.  The  kitchen,  to 
which  we  were  at  once  conducted,  was  a  large  square  room, 
lighted  by  a  single  broad  window,  and  having  a  brilliant  display 
of  polished  metal  utensils  upon  and  about  a  great  chimney,  all  as 
neat  and  nice  as  a  parlor.  "  The  huge  oak  table's  massy  frame 
bestrode  the  kitchen  floor;"  a  linen  cloth  was  spread  upon  it, 
and  coarse  but  excellent  wheat  bread,  butter  and  cheese,  brought 
from  the  pantry,  and  cider  and  perry  from  the  cellar.  The  cider 
was  "hard"  enough;  the  perry,  (fermented  juice  of  pears,)  a 
beautiful,  bright,  golden  liquid,  tasted  much  like  weak  vinegar 
and  water.  We  had  entered  the  district  of  cider  and  apple-trees, 
for  these  liquors  were  home-made,  and  the  first  extensive  orchard 
that  we  have  seen,  adjoined  the  rear  of  the  house :  during  the 
rest  of  our  day's  walk  the  road  was  frequently  lined  with  them 
for  long  distances. 

The  trees,  in  a  considerable  part  of  this  orchard,  were  of  every 
age,  and  stood  very  irregularly  at  various  distances  from  each  oth- 
er. It  appeared  as  if  when  an  old  tree  was  blown  down,  or  be- 
came worthless  from  age  and  decay,  and  an  unshaded  space  was 
thus  left,  or  likely  to  be,  two  young  trees  were  planted  at  a  little 
distance  on  each  side  of  it,  and  thus  perhaps  the  orchard  had 
been  renovated  and  continued  on  the  same  ground  for  several 
generations.  Two  hundred  years  ago  it  was  considered  that 
"the  best  way  to  plant  an  orchard  is  to  set  some  kernels  of  the 
best  and  soundest  apples  and  pears,  a  finger  deep,  and  at  a  foot 
distance,  and  to  leave  the  likeliest  plants  only  in  the  natural 
place,  removing  the  others  only  as  time  and  occasion  shall  re- 
quire." The  orchards  of  the  Rhine,  at  the  present  day,  in  which 
apple,  pear,  cherry  and  nut-trees  are  intermingled,  seem  to 
have  been  planted  with  as  little  regard  to  regularity  of  distance. 
The  grafts  were  commonly  inserted  at  from  six  to  eight  feet  from 


220  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

the  ground,  and  the  limbs  trimmed  so  as  to  allow  free  passage  to 
cattle  beneath  them.  The  lapd  was  in  an  old  weedy  sward,  and 
was  pastured  by  horses  and  cows.  It  had  not  been  in  any  way 
drained,  and  was  in  some  parts  boggy.  In  these,  willows,  and 
sallows  or  osiers,  (basket  willows,)  were  growing.  The  trees 
all  appeared  to  be  unhealthy,  mossy  and  stunted.  A  few  pear- 
trees  grew  here  and  there,  indiscriminately,  among  the  apples. 
The  cider-mill  was  just  like  the  old  fashioned  ones,  with  a  stone 
wheel,  common  in  New  England. 

After  seeing  the  orchard  in  such  condition,  I  was  surprised  to 
find  excellent,  neat  and  well-ordered  stables.  The  horse-stalls 
were  large,  with  iron  racks  and  mangers,  and  a  grating  and  drain 
to  carry  off  the  liquid.  The  manure  in  the  yard  was  piled  up  in 
a  large,  oblong  heap,  covered  with  earth,  to  prevent  evaporation, 
with  a  space  of  clean  pavement,  wide  enough  for  a  cart  to  pass 
all  around  it.  The  liquid  overflow  of  the  yard  was  conducted 
off  by  a  drain,  so  as  to  flow  over  the  orchard  pasture. 

We  reached  Leominster  at  noon,  after  a  few  miles  further  of 
walking  through  a  pleasant  country,  remarkable  for  its  pretty 
old  cottages.  At  Leominster,  (pronounced  Lemi?ister,)  there  are 
also  a  more  than  usually  quaint  sort  of  houses,  grotesquely  carv- 
ed ;  and  on  the  market-house,  an  odd  old  building,  there  are 
some  singular  inscriptions.  I  recollect  only  one,  which  runs  in 
this  way:  "As  columnes  do  pprope  up"  a  house,  so  do  a  gentry 
support  a  state. 

In  the  afternoon  we  walked  for  some  distance  on  the  banks  of 
a  trout  brook,  in  which  a  good  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  were 
angling,  wTith  but  poor  success.  The  trout  were  small,  and  if  I 
recollect  rightly,  rather  lighter  colored  than  ours,  and  not  so 
prettily  mottled.  Some  of  the  anglers  called  the  stream  "the 
Arrow,"  and  some  "the  Harrow." 


FRUIT  CULTURE.  221 


The  field-bean  is  a  common  crop  here ;  it  is  now  in  blossom, 
and  a  peculiarly  sweet  scent  from  it,  every  now  and  then,  comes 
in  a  full,  delicious  flood  over  the  hedges. 

The  country  over  which  we  walked  in  the  afternoon,  between 
Leominster  and  Hereford,  was  in  some  parts  extremely  beauti- 
ful :  considerable  hills,  always,  when  too  steep  or  rocky  or  sterile 
for  easy  cultivation,  covered  with  plantations  of  trees ;  the  lesser 
hills  and  low  lands  shaded  by  frequent  orchards.  These  were 
generally  of  apples,  sometimes  with  pears  intermixed — some- 
what rarely  entirely  of  pears.  Many  of  them  appeared  much 
like  the  one  I  have  described,  and  occasionally  there  was  a  reg- 
ularly planted  one  of  fine,  thrifty  trees.  In  the  poorer  orchards, 
where  the  trees  were  of  all  ages,  they  frequently  were  planted 
not  more  than  fifteen  feet  apart,  and  when  so,  as  far  as  I  observ- 
ed, were  invariably  small  in  size  and  unhealthy.  In  the  better 
ones,  the  trees  stood  oftenest  thirty  feet  apart  one  way,  and 
twenty  another ;  rarely  at  much  greater  distance  than  this,  but 
sometimes  as  much  as  forty. 


222  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

English  Orchard  Districts  —  The  Most  Favorable  Soils  and  Climate  —  Lime 
— Practical  Deduction  —  Diseases — Prevention  and  Remedies — Sugges- 
tions. 

rTHERE  are  but  few  orchards  in  England,  except  in  certain 
•*•  districts,  and  in  these  they  abound,  and  are  often  very  ex- 
tensive. The  inquiry  naturally  arises,  What  has  given  those 
districts  their  distinction  in  this  respect  ?  Have  they  any  natural 
advantages  which  makes  orcharding  more  profitable  in  them 
than  in  other  parts  of  the  country  ?  In  reply,  I  learn,  that  the 
orchard  districts  are  all  distinguished  for  a  comparatively  mild 
climate.  They  are  nearly  all  in  the  south  and  south-western 
counties,  while  in  the  northern  and  eastern  counties  I  know  of 
none.  Hereford  is  a  somewhat  hilly  county,  and,  as  I  have  re- 
marked, where  the  hills  are  too  steep  for  easy  cultivation,  it  is 
usual  to  plant  orchards ;  but  the  south  side  of  such  hills  is  pre- 
ferred to  the  north,  and,  even  here,  a  crop  is  sometimes  en- 
tirely lost  by  a  late  and  severe  spring  frost.  A  south-east  slope 
is  preferred,  the  south-east  winds  being  the  driest  I  suspect 
another  reason  why  it  is  found  better  is,  that  the  south-west  winds, 
coming  off  the  ocean,  are  the  stronger.  My  own  observation  has 
led  me  to  think  that  the  apple-tree  is  much  affected  by  an  ex- 


MOST  FA  VORABLE  SOILS  AND  CLIMATE.  223 

posure  to  severe  winds.  Few  trees  thrive  well  upon  the  sea- 
shore, and  this  is  usually  laid  to  the  account  of  salt  spray  or  "salt 
in  the  air."  It  will  be  found,  however,  that  trees  grown  inland 
upon  very  exposed  sites,  have  the  same  peculiarities  with  those 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  sea ;  that  is,  they  are  slow  of  growth  and 
"scrubby." 

Another  important  circumstance  to  be  noticed,  as  distinguish- 
ing the  apple  districts,  is  in  the  nature  of  their  soils.  These  are 
found,  however  varying  otherwise,  invariably  to  have  a  large 
proportion  of  lime,  and  generally  of  potash,  in  their  chemical 
composition.  With  reference  to  this  I  quote  the  observations  of 
Mr.  Frederick  Falkner.* 

"  Great  light  has  been  lately  thrown  upon  the  adaptation  of  soils  to  par- 
ticular plants,  and  it  is  now  easy  to  account  for  the  predilection,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  apple-tree  for  soils  that  abound  in  clays  and  marls.  All  de- 
ciduous trees  require  a  considerable  proportion  of  potash  for  the  elaboration 
of  their  juices  in  the  leaves,  and  are  prosperous,  or  otherwise,  in  proportion 
to  the  plentiful  or  scanty  supply  of  that  substance  in  the  soil.  Liebig  has 
shown,  that  the  acids  generated  in  plants  are  always  in  union  with  alkaline 
or  earthy  bases,  and  cannot  be  produced  without  their  presence.  .  .  Now 
the  apple-tree,  during  its  development,  produces  a  great  quantity  of  acid ; 
and  therefore,  in  a  corresponding  degree,  requires  alkaline,  and,  probably, 
earthy  bases  also,  as  an  indispensable  condition  to  the  existence  of  the 
fruit." 

Again,  the  same  writer : 

"It  cannot  be  denied  that  ammonia,  and  also  the  humus  of  decaying 
dung,  must  have  some  influence  on  the  growth  of  the  tree  in  such  soils,  and 
also  of  the  development  of  the  fruit ;  but  it  is  most  certain,  at  the  same 
time,  that  these  alone  would  be  perfectly  inefficient  for  the  production  of 
the  fruit  without  the  cooperation  of  (the  alkaline  bases.)  The  size,  and 
perhaps  the  flavor  of  the  fruit,  may  be  somewhat  affected  by  the  organic 

*  Journal  of  the  Royal  Agricultural  Society,  vol.  ir,  p.  381. 


224  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

part  of  the  manure,  but  its  very  existence  depends  upon  the  presence  in  the 
Boil  of  a  sufficient  quantity  of  those  inorganic  or  mineral  substances  which 
are  indispensable  to  the  formation  of  acids." 

But  it  is  also  found  by  analysis  that  lime  enters  into  the  com- 
position of  the  wood  of  the  apple-tree  in  very  large  proportions. 
By  the  analysis  of  Fresenius,  the  ash  of  the  wood  of  the  apple 
contains  45.19  per  cent,  of  lime,  and  13.67  per  cent,  of  potash. 
By  the  analysis  of  Dr.  Emmons,  of  Albany,  N.  Y.,  the  ash  of 
the  sap-wood  of  the  apple  contains  of  lime  18.63  per  cent,  and 
17.50  per  cent,  of  phosphate  of  lime. 

But  it  is  not  wherever  soils  of  the  sort  I  have  described  (cal- 
careous sandstones  and  marly  clays)  abound  in  a  district,  that 
you  find  that  the  farmers  have  discovered  that  it  is  to  their  in- 
terest to  have  orchards ;  nor  are  they  common  in  all  the  milder 
latitudes  of  England ;  but  I  believe  that  wherever  you  find  a 
favorable  climate,  conjoined  with  a  strongly  calcareous  and  mod- 
erately aluminous  soil  of  a  sufficient  depth,  there  you  will  find 
that  for  centuries  the  apple-tree  has  been  extensively  cultivated. 
Evelyn  speaks,  1676,  of  the  apples  of  Herefordshire,  and  says 
there  were  then  50,000  hogsheads  of  cider  produced  in  that 
county  yearly.  The  ancient  capital  of  modern  Somersetshire, 
one  of  the  present  "  Cider  Counties,"  was  known  by  the  Romans 
as  Avallonia,  (the  town  of  the  apple  orchards.)  It  would  not  be 
unlikely  that  the  universal  ceremony  in  Devonshire,  of  "  shooting 
at  the  apple-tree,"  (hereafter  described,)  originated  in  some 
heathen  rite  of  its  ancient  orchardists. 

To  obtain  choice  dessert  fruit,  the  apple  in  England  is  every- 
where trained  on  walls,  and  in  the  colder  parts  it  is  usual  to 
screen  a  standard  orchard  on  the  north  by  a  plantation  of  firs. 
There  is  no  part  of  the  United  States  where  the  natural  summer 
is  too  short  for  most  varieties  of  the  apple  to  perfect  their  fruit. 
In  Maine,  and  the  north  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont,  the 


MOST  FA  VORABLE  SOILS  AND  CLIMATE.  225 

assortment  of  varieties  is  rather  more  limited  than  elsewhere,  I 
believe ;  but  I  have  eaten  a  better  apple  from  an  orchard  at  Bur- 
lington, Vermont,  than  was  ever  grown  even  in  the  south  of  Eng- 
land. We  may  congratulate  ourselves  then,  that  all  that  we 
need  to  raise  the  best  apples  in  the  world,  anywhere  in  the 
northern  United  States,  is  fortunately  to  be  procured  much  more 
cheaply  than  a  long  summer  would  be,  if  that  were  wanting. 
The  other  thing  needful,  judging  from  the  experience  of  England 
for  a  length  of  time  past  record,  in  addition  to  the  usual  requisites 
for  the  cultivation  of  ordinary  farm  crops,  is  abundance  of  lime. 
This  is  experience ;  and  science  confirms  it  with  two  very  satis- 
factory reasons :  first,  that  apple-tree  wood  is  made  up  in  a  large 
part  of  lime,  which  must  be  taken  from  the  soil ;  and,  second, 
that  before  the  apple-tree  can  turn  other  materials  which  it  may 
collect  from  the  soil  and  atmosphere  into  fruit,  it  must  be  furnish- 
ed with  a  considerable  amount  of  some  sort  of  alkali,  which  requi- 
site may  be  supplied  by  lime. 

There  is  but  little  else  that  we  can  learn  from  the  English  or- 
chardists,  except  what  to  avoid  of  their  practices.  The  cider 
orchards,  in  general,  are  in  every  way  miserably  managed,  and 
the  greater  number  of  those  that  I  saw  in  Herefordshire  were,  in 
almost  every  respect,  worse  than  the  worst  I  ever  saw  in  New 
England.  The  apple  in  England  is  more  subject  to  disease ;  and 
I  should  judge,  from  what  was  told  me,  that  in  a  course  of  years 
it  suffered  more  from  the  attacks  of  insects  and  worms  than  in 
America.  The  most  deplorable  disease  is  canker.  This  malady 
is  attributed  sometimes  to  a  "cold,  sour"  soil,  sometimes  to  the 
want  of  some  ingredients  in  the  soil  that  are  necessary  to  enable 
the  tree  to  carry  on  its  healthy  functions,  sometimes  to  the  gen- 
eral barrenness  of  the  soil,  and  sometimes  to  the  "wearing  out  of 
varieties"  The  precaution  and  remedies  used  by  gardeners 

(rarely  by  orchardists)  for  it,  are  generally  those  that  would 
15 


226  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

secure  or  restore  a  vigorous  growth  to  a  tree.  The  first  of  these 
is  deepening  and  drying  the  soil,  or  deep  draining  and  trenching. 
The  strongest  and  most  fruitful  orchards,  it  is  well  known,  are 
those  which  have  been  planted  upon  old  hop-grounds,  where  the 
soil  has  been  deeply  tilled  and  manured  for  a  series  of  years 
with  substances  that  contain  a  considerable  amount  of  phosphorus, 
such  as  woolen  rags  and  bones.  The  roots  of  the  hop  also  de- 
scend far  below  the  deepest  tillage  that  can  be  given  it ;  (in  a 
calcareous  gravelly  subsoil  they  have  been  traced  ten  feet  from 
the  surface ;)  a  kind  of  subsoiling  is  thus  prepared  for  the  apple 
by  the  decay  of  the  hop  roots.  In  some  parts  it  is  the  custom  to 
introduce  the  hop  culture  upon  the  planting  of  a  young  orchard, 
the  hops  occupying  the  intervals  until  the  branches  of  the  trees 
interfere  with  them.  Nothing  is  more  likely  than  this  to  insure 
a  rapid  and  healthy  growth  of  the  trees. 

I  recommend  to  those  who  intend  planting  an  orchard,  to  have 
the  ground  for  it  in  a  state  of  even,  deep,  fine  tilth  beforehand, 
and  to  plant  in  the  intervals  between  apple  or  pear-trees,  some 
crop  which,  like  hops,  will  be  likely  to  get  for  itself  good  feeding 
and  culture  for  several  years. 

An  impenetrable  bottom  of  stone,  at  not  more  than  three  feet 
from  the  surface,  is  frequently  made  use  of  by  gardeners,  as  a 
precaution  against  canker.  I  have  been  told  that  in  the  ancient 
orchards  attached  to  monasteries,  such  a  flagging  of  brick  or 
stone  is  often  found  under  the  whole  area  of  the  orchard.  This 
would  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  directly  opposed  to  the  other  pre- 
caution, of  thorough-draining  and  deepening  the  surface  soil ;  but 
it  may  be  considered  that  the  injury  which  stagnant  water  would 
effect  is  in  a  degree  counteracted  when  the  roots  do  not  descend 
below  the  influence  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  heat  of  the  sun. 
It  is  not  unlikely  that  these  influences  would  extend  to  a  depth 
of  three  feet  from  the  surface,  in  a  soil  that  had  been  so  thorough- 


SUGGESTIONS.  227 


ly  trenched  and  lightened  up  as  it  necessarily  must  be  to  allow 
of  a  paving  to  be  made  under  it.  The  paving  does  not  probably 
much  retard  the  natural  descent  of  water  from  the  surface,  nor 
does  it  interfere  with  its  capillary  ascent ;  the  trenching  makes 
the  descent  of  superabundant  water  from  the  surface  more  rapid, 
while  the  increased  porosity  of  the  trenched  soil  gives  it  increased 
power  of  absorption,  both  from  the  subsoil  and  the  atmosphere, 
as  well  as  of  retention  of  a  healthy  supply  of  moisture.  The 
paving  also  prevents  the  roots  from  descending  below  where  this 
most  favorable  condition  of  the  soil  has  been  made  to  exist.  The 
effect  would  doubtless  be  greatly  better  if  thorough-draining  were 
given  in  addition ;  but  so  far  as  it  goes,  the  under-paving  and 
trenching  is  calculated  to  effect  the  same  purpose  as  deep  drain- 
age :  to  secure  a  healthy  supply  of  heat,  light  and  moisture  to  all 
the  roots. 

It  is  evident  that  the  precautions  and  remedies  which  have 
been  found  of  service  against  canker,  whether  operations  upon 
the  roots  or  the  foliage,  are  all  such  as  are  calculated  to  establish 
or  replace  the  tree  in  circumstances  favorable  to  its  general 
thriving,  healthy  condition. 

This  suggests  the  idea  that  canker  may  be  the  result  of  a  gen- 
eral constitutional  debility  of  the  tree,  not  occasioned  by  any  one 
cause  or  set  of  causes,  but  resultant  from  all  and  any  circum- 
stances unfavorable  to  the  healthy  growth  of  a  tree ;  and  it  is  a 
question  whether  the  same  may  not  be  thought  of  the  peculiar 
diseases  of  other  trees,  the  peach,  the  pear,  the  plum,  the  syca- 
more, and  perhaps  even  of  the  rot  of  the  potato. 


228  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Decay  of  Varieties  —  Two  Theories  :  Knight's,  Downing's  —  English  Theo- 
ry and  Practice — Practical  Deductions  —  Causes  of  Decay  —  Remedies 
—  Hints  to  Orchardists  —  Special  Manures  —  Pruning  —  Thorough  Drain- 
age—A Satirical  Sketch  —  Shooting  the  Apple  Tree. 

TT  is  known  that  many  varieties  of  apples,  which  fifty  years 
•*•  ago  were  held  in  high  esteem  as  healthy,  hardy  sorts,  bearing 
abundantly  very  superior  fruit,  have  now  but  a  very  poor  repu- 
tation, and  varieties  which  a  hundred  years  ago  were  very  highly 
valued  and  extensively  cultivated,  are  now  extinct.  It  is  be- 
lieved, too,  that  the  most  celebrated  old  varieties  that  are  yet 
cultivated,  are  much  more  subject  to  canker  than  others;  or, 
in  other  words,  that  trees  of  these  varieties  are  more  easily  af- 
fected by  unfavorable  circumstances,  or  have  a  more  delicate  con- 
stitution. 

To  account  for  this,  there  are  two  theories  held  by  different 
scientific  horticulturists.  The  first — which  originated  with  the 
late  Mr.  Knight,  a  distinguished  vegetable  physiologist  of  Eng- 
land, who  devoted  much  attention  to  the  subject,  and  made  a  long 
series  of  experiments  upon  it — may  be  stated  as  follows  : 

Each  seedling  tree  has  a  natural  limit  to  its  life,  and  within 
that  will  have  a  period  of  vigor,  succeeded  by  a  natural  and  in- 
evitable decline,  corresponding  to  the  gradually  incrasing  feeble- 


VARIOUS  THEORIES.  229 


ness  which  attends  the  latter  part  of  the  natural  life  of  a  man. 
And  all  trees  also  which  have  been  propagated  from  such  a  seed- 
ling by  means  of  buds  or  grafts,  or,  in  other  words,  all  trees  of 
the  same  variety,  are  to  be  considered  as  merely  extensions  of 
that  seedling,  and  will  have  a  cotemporary  vigor  and  decline 
and  decease  with  it.  The  period  of  vigor  or  decline  may  be 
much  extended  by  circumstances  favorable  to  the  general  health 
of  any  particular  tree,  and  by  unfavorable  influences  it  may  be 
shortened :  but  however  well  situated,  sooner  or  later  it  will  man- 
ifest feebleness  by  the  change  in  the  quality  of  its  fruit,  the  small 
quantity  it  is  able  to  bear,  by  the  decay  of  branches,  and  espe- 
cially by  its  liability  to  be  attacked  by  disease,  such  as  the  canker, 
which  rapidly  destroy  its  remaining  vitality.  These  diseases 
may  be  guarded  against,  and  may  often  be  cured ;  but  the  longer 
the  period  since  the  origin  of  the  variety  from  a  seed,  the  greater 
the  liability  and  the  more  difficult  the  cure.* 

This  theory  is  entirely  discredited  by  other  distinguished  bota- 
nists and  horticulturists,  among  whom  are  Dr.  Lindley  in  Eng- 
land, Decandolle  on  the  Continent,  and  Mr.  Downing  and  H.  W. 
Beecher  in  America. 

These  consider  that  there  is  no  such  similarity  between  the 
life  of  a  tree  and  the  life  of  an  animal,  and  that  a  bud  and  a  seed 
contain  equally  the  germ  of  new  life ;  that  they  are,  in  fact,  the 
same  thing,  except  that  they  are  prepared  to  be  developed  under 
different  circumstances.  That  each  bud,  twig,  and  branch,  has  a 
life  of  its  own,  and  the  trunk  is  but  an  association  of  roots,  or  of 
connections  between  each  bud  and  its  roots.  It  may  be  separated 

*  Professor  Turner,  of  Illinois  College,  advocates  the  view  that  every  time  a  seedling 
tree  is  divided,  whether  in  root  or  top,  its  natural  longevity  and  proportionate  vital  force 
are  proportionally  divided,  abstracted  and  shortened ;  and  believes  that  some  of  the 
worst  forms  of  hereditary,  and  also  of  annual  diseases,  flow  from  a  succession  of  such 
mutilations  through  a  series  of  generations,  or  are  produced  by  an  effort  of  nature  to 
resist  and  repair  this  interference  with  her  natural  process. 


230  ,4JT  AMERICAN  FARMER  AV  EXGLAXD. 

from  this  trunk  as  a  seed  is,  and  will  continue  to  live  if  ingrafted 
upon  another  trunk,  where  it  will  connect  itself  again  in  the 
ground  and  grow,  and  through  it  other  independent  lives  will  be 
produced  and  sustained.  Or  it  may  be  removed  from  its  parent 
and  placed  upon  the  ground,  where  it  will  make  roots  and  extend 
and  reproduce  again  as  independently,  in  all  respects,  as  a  seed. 
It  is  held  that  the  death  of  trees  does  not  arise  from  any  natural 
period  being  assigned  to  their  existence,  but  that  the  tissues  of  a 
tree,  as  they  grow  old,  become  dry  and  hard ;  no  longer  transmit 
sap,  lose  their  vitality,  and  gradually  decay ;  yet  the  process  of 
growth  may  continually  be  renewed  exteriorly  to  this  death,  so 
that  large  cavities  will  often  exist  in  the  interior  of  trees.  As, 
however,  the  peculiar  natural  food  of  the  tree,  within  the  limits 
to  which  it  can  extend  its  roots,  becomes  exhausted,  or,  as  other 
unhealthy  circumstances  affect  it,  its  vital  power  and  its  re-vital- 
izing power  will  be  diminished,  and  finally  may  become  extinct. 

If,  however,  a  bud  or  germ  of  a  new  branch  can  be  taken  from 
the  tree  before  its  decay,  or  from  any  part  of  it  that  yet  retains 
its  vigor  and  health,  and  be  transplanted  by  means  of  cuttings 
in  the  earth,  or  inoculations  or  grafts  upon  another  healthy  stock 
of  the  same  species,  it  will  have  all  the  vital  energy,  and,  in 
every  respect,  all  the  natural  character,  of  a  seedling. 

In  explanation  of  the  general  deterioration  of  certain  favorite 
old  varieties,  according  to  the  theory  of  Downing  and  Lindley, 
their  state  should  be  compared  (taking  care  not  to  run  the 
analogy  too  far  into  the  ground)  to  what  is  popularly  understood 
as  a  scrofulous  condition  of  human  beings,  rather  than  to  the  de- 
crepitude of  old  age.  From  various  causes  —  want  of  proper 
food,  unfavorable  climate,  propagation  upon  unhealthy  stocks, 
high  feeding,  and  any  unnatural  stimulus  producing  imperfect 
succulent  growth,  and  from  constant  repropagation  from  trees 
that  have  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  so  suffered — the  trees  of 


SCROFULOUS  TREES.  231 

the  variety  have  very  generally  lost  their  natural,  strong,  active, 
resisting,  and  recuperative  vital  energy,  and  have  a  general  ten- 
dency to  disease,  which  will  be  developed  in  different  forms 
according  to  circumstances.  A  wound  upon  a  scrofulous  subject 
is  more  difficult  to  heal ;  exertion  produces  more  fatigue,  and  rest 
brings  less  return  of  strength.  Food,  which  in  its  natural  state 
would  be  most  nourishing  and  healthful,  it  can  no  longer  digest, 
and  it  does  it  more  harm  than  good ;  exposure  to  cold,  to  malaria, 
or  contagion,  is  more  dangerous,  and  if  it  escapes  all  acute  dis- 
ease, it  gradually  grows  more  and  more  feeble,  until  finally  it  has 
"  died  of  a  decline." 

Sterility  attends  the  decrepitude  of  age,  but  not  the  scrofulous 
debility  in  man,  neither  does  it  the  degeneracy  of  the  old  trees. 
But  the  scrofulous  habit  is  hereditary  in  man ;  so  it  is  believed 
to  be  in  the  old  varieties.  If,  however,  the  scrofulous  inheritance 
is  not  very  virulent,  by  a  judicious  course  of  regimen  it  may  be 
gradually  overcome,  and  a  strong  vigorous  constitution  once  more 
reestablished.  So  it  is  argued,  and  facts  are  cited  that  seem  to 
sustain  the  position,  may  the  old  varieties  be  restored  to  their 
pristine  excellence,  by  care  to  select  scions  from  the  most  healthy 
trees,  and  from  the  most  vigorous  parts  of  them,  and  to  propagate 
these  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  for  their  healthy 
growth. 

The  predisposition  to  disease  in  these  ill-treated  trees  may 
result  in  a  contagious  malady,  and  this  may  spread  beyond  them 
and  attack  trees  of  ordinarily  good  constitution,  and  in  the  most 
salubrious  situations,  though,  of  course,  the  liability  of  these  to 
take  the  malady,  and  their  recuperative  power  under  its  attack, 
will  be  proportionate  to  their  strength  and  soundness.  The  dis- 
ease known  as  the  yellows,  in  peach-trees,  seems  to  be  of  this 
nature. 

There  are  many  facts  unfavorable  to  both  these  theories,  and 


232  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

many  phenomena  which  neither  of  them,  in  my  opinion,  satisfac- 
torily explain.  The  popular  judgment  in  England  seemed  to 
have  accepted  Knight's  hypothesis.  But  while  every  body  was 
mourning  over  the  degeneracy  of  old  favorites,  the  utter  neglect 
or  miserable  mismanagement  of  their  orchards  seemed  to  me  to 
bear  strong  testimony  to  the  correctness  of  the  contrary  theory. 

The  practical  deduction,  it  may  be  remarked,  from  either  view, 
does  not  greatly  differ.  By  judicious  management,  the  health, 
vigor,  and  profit  of  a  fruit-tree,  which  would  otherwise,  after  a 
certain  time,  pine  away  and  die,  may  be  greatly  extended,  if  not 
made  permanent ;  and  trees  which  are  already  failing  from  de- 
crepitude or  disease,  may  be  restored.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
trees  are  planted  in  unhealthy  positions,  insufficiently  supplied 
with  those  materials  that  are  necessary  to  the  formation  of  strong, 
compact  wood ;  if  they  are  cruelly  mutilated,  crowded  too  close 
together,  etc.,  they  will  not  only  be  feeble  and  unproductive,  but 
will  be  particularly  liable  to  the  attacks  of  vermin,  disease,  and 
parasites,  and,  in  their  weak  condition,  will  soon  yield  their  life 
to  these  enemies.  Moreover,  the  insects  which  are  bred  in  them 
will  extend  their  ravages  to  surrounding  trees,  the  seeds  from 
their  parasites  will  be  scattered  over  the  neighborhood,  and  the 
disease  which  is  generated  in  them  may  be  indefinitely  extended 
among  their  species. 

The  most  common  causes  of  disease,  decay,  and  decline  of  a 
fruit-tree,  which  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  orchardist,  in  a  great 
degree,  to  control,  are  these :  the  exhaustion  from  the  soil  of  those 
materials  which  are  its  necessary  food ;  the  attacks  of  vermin, 
and  the  growth  of  moss  or  parasites ;  the  loss  of  large  limbs  or 
other  severe  wounds ;  too  great  exposure  of  the  trunks  to  the 
sun  ;  too  rapid  and  succulent  growth  from  the  stimulus  of  heat  or 
exciting  manures ;  and  an  impervious  subsoil,  which  will  allow 


SPECIAL  MANURES.  233 


water  frequently  to  stagnate  about  its  roots,  producing  what  is 
commonly  called  by  farmers  "  a  cold,  sour  soil." 

Some  of  my  readers,  who  have  not  yet  studied  the  subject, 
may  be  glad  to  have  me  concisely  indicate  the  most  approved 
means  of  avoiding  or  counteracting  these  dangers. 

Manures  should  be  applied  to  orchards  frequently  and  in  mod- 
erate quantities,  rather  than  in  heavy  supplies  at  distant  intervals ; 
and,  to  avoid  unhealthy  stimulation,  they  should  be  well  decom- 
posed. The  best  ordinary  manure  in  the  United  States  has  been 
found  to  be  a  mixture  of  dung  with  an  equal  quantity  of  peat  or 
black  swamp-earth,  chip-dirt,  or  rotten  wood  or  leaves ;  and  it  is 
better  that  this  compost  should  be  mixed  some  time  (the  longer 
the  better)  before  it  is  applied. 

But,  in  addition,  I  have  shown  from  the  English  experience 
that  the  apple-tree  requires  a  more  than  ordinary  supply  of  lime, 
(say  a  peck  of  air-slaked  stone  or  shell  lime  to  each  tree,  every 
year.)  In  the  same  way  the  pear  is  known  to  require  especially 
potash,  iron,  and  phosphorus. 

Iron  is  found  in  sufficient  quantity  in  most  clay  soils ;  where 
needed,  it  may  be  supplied  by  scattering  bog-ore  (found  generally 
underlying  swamps  in  America),  or  iron  filings,  or  the  sweepings 
and  scoriae  from  forges.  One  pound  of  crude  potash  dissolved  in 
water  and  poured  over  the  compost  manure,  or  half  a  bushel  of 
wood  ashes,  to  a  tree,  will  be  a  good  yearly  allowance  of  potash ; 
and  half  a  peck  of  bones  to  a  tree  will  supply  the  phosphorus. 
For  the  plum  and  the  quince,  salt  is  found  particularly  useful, 
and  ashes  for  the  peach.  But  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  the 
apple  cannot  live  on  lime  alone,  nor  the  peach  on  potash,  only 
that  it  is  a  special  supply  of  these  that  they  more  particularly 
require.* 

*  Copperas  (sulphate  of  iron)  seems  to  act  as  a  tonic  upon  trees     If  applied  to  feeble, 
pale-leaved  shrubs  and  trees,  it  will  often  wonderfully  invigorate  them.    It  may  be  dis- 


234  AN  AMERICAS'  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

The  Hereford  orchards  suffer  much  more  from  moss,  parasite?, 
and  insects,  and  less  pains  are  taken  to  guard  against  them  or  to 
destroy  them  than  is  usual  in  New  England.  There  is  a  fine 
moss  that  will  not  easily  be  detected,  that  often  collects  upon  the 
branches,  and,  diverting  the  juices  of  the  tree  to  its  own  nourish- 
ment, eventually,  if  not  removed,  destroys  the  bark ;  and  limbs 
are  seen  frequently  thus  denuded  of  their  natural  defense,  and  the 
wood  consequently  decaying.  This  is  doubtless  a  common  cause 
of  organic  disease.  The  ordinary  preventive  and  remedy  for 
every  thing  of  this  sort  is  to  wash  the  trunk  and  principal  limbs 
of  the  tree  every  year  with  a  weak  lye — in  which  it  is  a  good 
plan  to  put  a  little  sulphur — all  insects  having  a  particular  repug- 
nance to  it.*  If  there  is  much  dead,  scaly  bark,  it  should  be  first 
rubbed  or  scraped  off. 

Trees  should  be  allowed  to  branch  low  and  naturally.  The 
"trimming  up"  and  unnatural  exposure  to  the  sun  of  the  trunk 
of  the  pear-tree  is  known  to  particularly  predispose  it  to  a  most 
fatal  malady.  Where  trees  are  properly  managed  while  young, 
it  will  never  be  necessary  to  prune  their  limbs  in  our  climate ; 
and  there  can  scarcely  ever  be  a  case  where  the  cutting  off  a  limb 
larger  than  a  man's  arm  will  not  be  likely  to  do  more  harm  than 
good.  Wherever  it  is  done,  or  wherever  a  large  branch  has  been 
blown  off,  the  stump  should  be  squared  off  neatly,  and  a  salve  of 
clay  and  cow-dung  spread  over  it  and  secured  upon  it  by  a  cap 
of  canvas  or  sheet-lead.  Smaller  stumps  should  be  covered  with 
paint,  or  with  a  coating  of  shellac  dissolved  in  alcohol. 

Too  rapid  and  succulent  growth,  making  imperfectly  formed 
wood,  through  which  the  future  processes  of  the  growth  of  the 
tree  or  the  fruit  formation  will  be  inefficiently  performed,  is  occa- 

solyed  in  water.    A  mild  solution  of  sulphate  or  muriate  of  ammonia  has  a  similar  effect, 
but  must  be  used  with  care. 
*  1  Ib.  of  potash,  or  1  quart  soft  soap,  and  4  oz.  sulphur,  to  1  gallon  of  water. 


UNDER-DRAINING  ORCHARDS.  235 

sioned  either  by  too  stimulating  food  in  the  soil,  or  by  a  forcing 
heat  in  the  climate,  which  excites  a  growth  unnatural  to  the 
original  habit  of  the  tree.  There  are  also  probably  other  yet 
unexplained  causes  for  it.  The  preventive  must  be  determined 
by  the  cause.  The  immediate  remedy  is  shortening-in  with  a 
knife  one-quarter  or  one-half  of  the  growth  of  each  year.  This 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  successful  cultivation  of  the  peach 
in  many  situations  in  the  United  States,  and,  as  I  have  shown, 
is  sometimes  used  as  a  remedy  for  canker  in  the  apple-tree  in 
England.* 

Too  retentive  a  subsoil,  or  a  cold,  sour,  malarious  bed  for  the 
roots  of  an  orchard,  is  only  to  be  remedied  by  under-draining. 
Mr.  Thompson,  of  the  London  Horticultural  Society,  gives  a 
striking  instance  of  the  profit  which  may  attend  this  operation. 

Having  detailed  several  experiments,  he  remarks,  that  "  want 
of  drainage  deprives  the  roots  of  proper  nourishment,  subjects 
them  to  a  chilling  temperature,  and  forces  them  to  absorb  a  vitia- 
ted fluid."  He  then  describes  an  orchard  planted,  in  1828,  upon 
a  retentive  marly  clay.  He  says,  "  the  trees  grew  tolerably  well 
for  some  time ;  but  after  seven  years  they  began  to  exhibit  symp- 
toms of  ill  thriving,  and  were  every  year-  getting  worse.  I  saw 
them  in  1840,  and  instead  of  increasing  in  size  they  seemed  to 
be  decreasing."  The  trees  grew  worse,  and  the  following  year 
several  died.  It  was  then  determined  to  drain  the  land :  3000 
feet  of  draining-tile  were  laid,  3  feet  deep,  in  parallel  lines,  48 
feet  apart.  In  the  spring  of  1843,  and  in  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year,  3000  feet  of  drain  pipes,  1J  inch  bore,  were  laid  at  30 
inches  deep,  so  that  the  drains  were  then  only  24  feet  apart ;  the 

*  The  principal  enemy  of  the  peach-tree  is  the  borer,  a  worm  which  works  under  the 
bark,  near  the  surface  of  the  ground.  Its  presence  may  be  known  by  the  exudation  of 
gum.  Trees  should  be  examined  for  it  every  spring  and  fallj  and  it  may  be  easily 
pricked  out  and  killed  with  a  sharp-pointed  knife 


236  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

ground  at  the  same  time  was  dug  over  eight  inches  deep,  and  the 
trees  pruned.  The  following  year  the  proprietor  writes :  "  I 
never  housed  any  thing  like  50  bushels  before ;  now  there  are  at 
least  75  bushels,  while  my  summer  fruit  was  at  least  double  the 
usual  quantity."  Upon  this,  Mr.  Thompson  remarks :  —  "  The 
lopping-in  of  the  trees  and  digging  the  ground,  as  above  describ- 
ed, were  doubtless  advantageous  proceedings ;  but  the  draining 
of  the  ground  was  unquestionably  the  main  cause  of  the  extraor- 
dinary change  in  the  condition  of  the  trees;  for  stunted  specimens, 
that  previous  to  the  draining  were  covered  with  moss,  had  made 
no  shoots  for  years,  and  were  in  such  a  state  of  decrepitude  that 
there  was  nothing  to  cut  away  but  dead  wood ;  these  had  pro- 
duced vigorous  shoots  when  I  saw  them  in  1847,  and  have  con- 
tinued to  do  so  up  to  the  present  time.  Such  vigor  cannot  be 
attributed  to  the  cutting-in,  for  in  these  cases  it  was  not  practiced ; 
nor  to  the  digging  of  the  ground,  for  although  this  was  done 
before  draining  was  thought  of,  yet  the  trees  went  backwards ; 
the  decay  of  their  branches  increased  under  all  circumstances  till 
1843,  when  recourse  was  had  to  draining,  and  since  then  they 
have  continued  to  do  well,  producing  vigorous  shoots  —  shoots 
upwards  of  three  feet  in  length ;  and  in  the  present  season  the 
fruit  was  abundant,  large,  and  highly  colored." 

A  case  was  mentioned  before  the  Staten  Island  Farmers'  Club, 
in  1850,  of  an  under-drain  having  been  run  near  two  greengage 
plum-trees,  which  had  previously  been  for  many  years  entirely 
barren ;  the  year  after,  without  any  other  operation  upon  them, 
they  bore  bushels  of  fruit. 

The  following  satirical  sketch  of  the  management  of  the  De- 
vonshire orchards,  contains  an  amusing  account  of  the  ceremony 
of  "shooting  at  the  apple-tree,"  before  alluded  to.* 

*  From  the  London  Gardeners'1  Chronicle. 


A  DEVONSHIRE  CIDER  FROLIC.  237 

"  The  trees  are  planted,  to  a  large  extent,  apparently  without  considering 
what  sort  of  soil  or  situation  is  best,  and  without  making  any  previous 
preparation  ;  a  situation  is  chosen,  a  pit  is  dug  with  a  curious  clumsy  bit 
of  iron,  having  a  large  socket-hole  at  one  end  of  it,  in  which  is  driven  a 
large,  strong  pole,  which  answers  for  a  handle ;  it  is  worked  with  both 
hands  over  one  knee  ;  the  depth  that  the  roots  are  buried  does  not  seem  to 
be  of  any  moment,  provided  the  trees  are  firmly  fixed,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
wind  from  driving  them  down.  I  have  never  observed  any  pruning  per- 
formed, except  such  as  is  done  by  bullocks,  horses,  donkeys,  etc. ;  and  as  I 
have  not  observed  any  "  horse-ladders  "  here  in  use,  of  course  the  pruning 
is  not  very  effectively  performed  about  the  top  part  of  the  very  lofty  trees. 
The  only  digging  or  stirring  the  surface  of  the  ground  among  the  trees  that 
I  have  observed  is  done  by  pigs,  which  are  occasionally  allowed  to  rove  in 
some  orchards,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  with  the  rings  taken  from 
their  snouts.  In  a  moist  season  these  intelligent  animals  occasionally  turn 
up  the  ground  in  a  tolerable  regular  manner ;  and  where  this  is  the  case 
the  good  effects  of  their  industry  are  obvious.  However,  it  is  only  on  rare 
occasions  that  they  are  allowed  to  perform  this  surface  operation.  The 
animals  that  do  the  pruning  are  the  principal  business-performing  creatures, 
as,  in  addition  to  that  operation,  they  tread  down  the  under  crop  of  grass, 
weeds  and  other  rubbish,  take  the  fruit  to  the  cider-mill,  and  the  cider  to 
the  consumer  ;  besides,  on  rare  occurrences,  a  little  manure  is  conveyed  by 
them,  and  placed  over  the  roots,  close  to  the  trunks  of  the  trees  ;  it  is  some- 
times, although  rarely,  placed  at  the  great  distance  of  three  or  four  feet 
from  the  trunk.  Bipeds,  notwithstanding,  perform  some  of  the  most  inter- 
esting and  essential  parts,  such  as  planting,  collecting  the  fruit,  consuming 
it  in  part,  and  assisting  in  making  the  cider ;  together  with  shooting  at 
trees  annually  on  Old  Twelfth-night.  Let  it  rain,  hail,  blow  or  snow,  this 
very  essential  and  interesting  ceremony  is  always  commenced  at  12  o'clock 
at  night,  a  tremendous  fire  being  kept  up  for  several  hours  afterwards. 
They  repeat  or  sing  the  following  interesting  song,  with  all  tie  might  which 
their  lungs  will  permit.  The  juice  of  the  fruit  is  generally  made  use  of  for 
many  hours,  pretty  freely,  previously  to  this  interesting  ceremony,  so  that 
a  perfect  ripeness  of  address  and  expertness  in  gunnery  is  the  result.  Guns 
and  firelocks  long  laid  by  are  on  this  remarkable  occasion  brought  forward. 
The  following  is  what  I  have  heard  sung  on  these  occasions,  although  much 
more  is  added  in  some  localities : 


238  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

"Here's  to  thee,  old  apple-tree, 

Whence  thou  mayest  bud,  and  whence  thou  mayest  blow; 
And  whence  thou  mayest  bear  apples  enow; 

Hats  full,  caps  full! 

Bushel,  bushel-sacks  full! 

And  my  pockets  full  too! 
If  thee  does  not  bear  either  apples  or  corn, 
We'll  down  with  thy  top,  and  up  with  thy  horn." 

(Here  the  natives  shoot  at  the  tree.) 


TILE  AND  THATCHED  ROOFS.  239 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Roofs;  Shingles;  Tile;  Thatch:  The  Advantages  and  Disadvantages  of 
each  —  The  use  of  Thatch  in  America  —  Hereford  —  Christian  Hospitality 
—  A  Milk  Farm  —  The  Herefords — A  Dangerous  Man  —  Primitive  Chris- 
tianity. 

QOMEWHERE  in  this  region,  we  passed  two  small  churches 
*J  or  chapels  with  roofs  of  wooden  shingles ;  in  both  cases  the 
pitch  of  the  roof  was  very  steep,  and  the  shingles  old,  warped 
and  mossy.  These  were  the  only  shingle  roofs  I  recollect  to 
have  seen  in  England ;  but  I  was  told  they  were  not  very  un- 
common upon  old  farm-buildings  in  Devonshire.  The  roofs 
hereabouts,  generally,  are  of  flat  tile.  In  moulding  these  tile, 
which  are  of  equal  thickness  at  both  ends,  a  hole  is  made  in  the 
upper  part,  by  which  they  are  pegged  to  slats,  which  run  hori- 
zontally across  the  rafters;  (about  London  a  protuberance  is 
moulded  upon  the  tile,  by  which  it  is  hung.)  This  peg  is  cov- 
ered, as  the  nails  of  a  shingle  are,  by  the  lower  part  of  the  tile 
of  the  next  tier  above  it.  If  no  precaution  to  prevent  it  is  taken, 
there  will  sometimes  be  crevices  in  a  tile  roof,  through  which 
snow  will  drive ;  in  dwellings,  a  thin  layer  of  straw  is  often  laid 
under  the  tile,  and  sometimes  they  are  laid  in  mortar.  Pan-tiles 
(common  on  old  houses  in  New  York)  are  also  made  tight  with 
mortar.  Roofs  of  this  kind  will  last  here  about  twice  as  long  as 


240  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

shingle  roofs  with  us,  without  repairs,  and  are  fire-proof.  Unless 
laid  over  straw,  they  give  less  protection  than  shingles  against 
heat  and  cold. 

The  roofing  material  changes  completely  often  in  one  day's 
walk  ;  flat  tiles  giving  place  to  slates,  slates  to  pan-tiles,  etc.  In 
Monmouthshire,  the  roofs  are  generally  made  of  a  flat,  shaly 
stone,  called  tile-stone,  quarried  not  less  than  an  inch  thick.  It 
is  laid  with  mortar,  or  straw  or  moss,  like  tile,  and  requires 
strong  timber  to  support  it.  The  better  class  of  houses  and 
modem  farm-buildings,  almost  every  where,  are  slated;  some- 
times metal  roofed;  rarely  covered  with  compositions  or  felt. 
Cottages,  and  old  farm-houses  and  stables,  every  where,  except 
in  the  vicinity  of  slate  quarries,  are  thatched.  Straw  thatch  is 
commonly  laid  about  eight  inches  thick.  Its  permanence  depends 
on  the  pitch  of  the  roof.  Ordinarily  it  may  last  twenty-five 
years ;  and  when  a  new  roof  is  required,  the  old  thatch  is  not  re- 
moved, but  a  new  layer  of  the  same  thickness  is  laid  over  the  old 
one.  Frequently  three  and  sometimes  more  layers  of  thatch 
may  be  seen  on  an  old  building,  the  roof  thus  often  being  two 
feet  thick.  It  is  a  cheaper  roof  than  any  other,  and  is  much  the 
best  protection  against  both  cold  and  heat.  The  objection  to  it 
is  that  it  harbors  vermin,  and  is  more  liable  to  take  fire  from 
sparks  than  any  other.  The  danger  of  the  latter  is  not  as  great, 
however,  as  would  be  supposed.  I  saw  and  heard  of  no  house 
on  fire  while  I  was  in  England,  except  in  London.  I  frequently 
saw  cottages  in  which  coppice-wood  was  being  burned,  the  top 
of  the  chimney  not  a  foot  above  the  diy  straw  thatch,  and  the 
smoke  drifting  right  down  upon  it.  The  dangers  from  fire  would 
be  somewhat  greater  in  America,  where  wood  is  more  commonly 
used  as  fuel,  and  rain  is  much  less  frequent.  There  are  some 
situations  in  which  it  might  be  safely  employed,  however,  (if  on 
dwellings,  the  chimney  should  be  elevated  more  than  usual,)  and 


COTTAGE  WALLS.  241 


where  it  would  form  the  cheapest  and  most  comfortable,  and 
much  the  most  picturesque  and  appropriate,  roof. 

The  cost  of  the  thatched  roof  of  a  double  cottage,  fifty  by  fif- 
teen feet,  is  estimated  at  one  hundred  and  forty  dollars,  of  which 
about  forty  dollars  is  for  straw,  forty  dollars  for  thatcher's  work, 
and  the  remainder  for  the  frame,  lath,  etc. 

The  walls  of  laborer's  cottages  are  of  stone,  or  brick  and  tim- 
ber, or  of  clay.  In  making  the  latter,  which  travelers  frequently 
describe  as  "mud  walls,"  and  which  are  very  common,  the  clay, 
having  been  well  forked  over  and  cleaned  of  stones,  is  sprinkled 
with  water,  and  has  short  straw  mixed  with  it,  and  is  then  trod- 
den with  horses  and  worked  over  until  it  becomes  a  plastic  mass. 
The  more  it  is  trodden  the  better.  A  foundation  of  stone  is  first 
made ;  one  man  forms  the  prepared  clay  into  balls,  or  lumps  as 
large  as  bricks,  and  passes  these  to  another,  who  lays  and  packs 
them  well  and  firmly  together,  dressing  off  smooth  and  straight 
with  a  trowel.  After  the  height  desired  for  the  wall  is  attained, 
it  is  commonly  plastered  over  inside  and  out  with  a  thin  coat  of 
more  carefully  prepared  clay,  and  whitewashed.  This  makes  an 
excellent  non-conducting  wall,  equal,  in  every  respect,  except  in 
permanence,  and  almost  in  that,  to  stone  or  brick.  Very  respect- 
able houses,  as  villas  and  parsonages,  are  sometimes  built  in  this 
way.  The  cost  is  about  30  cts.  a  square  yard. 

I  once  or  twice  saw  the  walls  of  cottages  made  of  or  covered 
with  thatch,  and  have  no  doubt,  as  long  as  vermin  were  kept  out 
of  them,  that  they  were,  as  was  asserted,  exceedingly  comfortable. 
These  were  gentlemen's  country  boxes,  not  laborers'  cottages. 

On  reaching  Hereford,  a  city  of  10,000  inhabitants,  we  were 
met  by  a  gentleman  to  whom  it  seemed  that  word  had  been  sent 
by  some  of  the  "Brethren"  at  Ludlow,  who  begged  us  all  to 
come  to  his  house,  and,  upon  reaching  it,  we  found  rooms  pre- 
pared for  us,  and  his  family  expecting  us. 
16 


242  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

After  tea  he  walked  with  us  about  the  town,  and  even  took  us 
into  the  country,  to  see  a  small  milk-dairy  and  orchard-farm. 
The  cows  were  of  the  Hereford  breed,  but  not  full-blooded,  nor 
have  we  seen  many  that  were.  Most  of  the  cattle  in  this  vicini- 
ty have  more  or  less  of  the  marks  of  the  breed,  and  their  quality 
is  about  in  proportion  to  its  purity.  The  poorest  cattle  I  have 
seen  in  England  were  within  two  miles  of  Hereford,  but  there 
was  no  mark  of  Hereford  blood  in  them,  and  they  had  probably 
been  bought  out  of  the  county,  and  brought  there  to  fatten.  The 
best  milkers  on  this  farm  were  not  the  best-bred  cows.  The 
average  value  of  the  herd  was  about  §35  a-head.  They  were 
kept  in  a  long  stable ;  mangers  and  floor  of  wood,  a  slope  of  half 
an  inch  in  a  foot  to  the  latter,  with  a  gutter  in  the  rear.  They 
were  entirely  house-fed,  on  green  clover.  They  were  milked  by 
women,  and  the  milk  all  sold  in  the  town. 

Late  in  the  evening,  our  host  called  with  us  on  the  Rev.  Mr. 

,  a  right  warm,  manly,  Christian  gentleman,  who,  though  in 

domestic  affliction,  on  learning  that  we  were  Americans,  received 
us  cordially.  We  found  him  singularly  familiar  with  American 
matters,  both  political  and  theological ;  a  portrait  of  Dr.  Bush- 
nell,  of  Hartford,  along  with  that  of  Dr.  Arnold,  and  other  wor- 
thies, was  over  his  mantel,  the  last  "New-Englander"  on  his 
table,  and  a  fragrance  peculiarly  adapted  to  make  an  American 
feel  at  home,  soon  pervaded  the  atmosphere  of  his  study.  We 
had  a  most  agreeable  conversation,  and  it  was  long  before  we 

could  return  to  our  hospitable  quarters  for  the  night.  Mr. 

is  an  Independent,  or,  as  he  prefers  to  be  called,  a  Congregation- 
alist ;  but  is  accounted  somewhat  heterodox,  and  treated  with  a 
cold  shoulder  by  some  of  the  scribes  and  doctors  of  that  persua- 
sion, we  were  afterwards  informed. 

When  we  came  into  the  parlor,  at  half  past  seven  next  morn- 
ing, we  found  a  breakfast  party  met  to  greet  us.  Our  host  had 


WARM  BREAKFAST  AND  WARM  HEARTS.  243 

been  to  an  early  daylight  prayer-meeting,  and  some  business  had 
detained  him ;  but  his  friends  introduced  each  other  to  us,  and 
v/e  went  to  breakfast  without  waiting  for  him.  It  was  a  good, 
warm,  respectable  breakfast — fit  for  a  Christian.  English  break- 
fasts in  general  are  quite  absurd ;  not  breakfasts  at  all,  but  just 
aggravations  of  fasts,  and  likely  to  put  a  man  in  anything  but  a 
Christian  humor  for  his  day's  work.  As  for  the  better  part  of 
the  meal,  see  C.'s  letter,  (from  which  I  here  extract)  : 

"I  shall  not  soon  forget  those  earnest,  simple-hearted  men. 
In  many  circles  one  would  be  repelled  by  such  constant  use  of 
religious  phrases,  but  in  them  it  did  not  seem  like  cant  at  all — 
rather  the  usual  expression  with  them  of  true  feeling.  It  was  a 
company  too  well  worth  considering.  Opposite  me  sat  a  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  who  had  been  a  major-general  in  the  East  India 
service,  and  who  belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  the  king- 
dom. Yet  he  had  given  up  his  commission  and  his  position  in 
society  for  the  sake  of  doing  good  as  an  humble  Christian.  His 
half-pay,  too,  he  had  refused,  believing  it  inconsistent  for  a  re- 
ligious man  to  receive  money  for  services  of  such  a  nature.  He 
had  been  a  scholar  also,  and  had  written  a  dictionary  of  the 
Mahratta  tongue.  Besides  him,  there  was  a  lieutenant  in  the 
navy,  who  had  thrown  up  his  commission  from  similar  religious 
scruples,  and  a  prominent  surgeon  of  the  city,  devoted,  like  the 
rest,  to  Christian  efforts  almost  entirely.  They  had  been  to  a 
prayer-meeting,  and  the  conversation,  with  the  Bible  open  on  the 
table,  commenced  at  once  on  a  passage  in  John.  It  was  beauti- 
ful, the  simple,  natural  way  they  all  conversed  of  religious  topics 
— no  straining  for  sanctity,  but  easily  and  earnestly,  as  men 
usually  would  speak  of  weighty  political  matters. 

"  But,  free  as  is  the  plan  of  these  brethren,  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  in  real  liberality  they  do  not  go  beyond  most  others.  The 
conversation  during  breakfast  turned  on  the  Roman  Catholics. 


244  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  71V  ENGLAND. 

Most  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  doubt  whether  a  Papist  ever  could 
be  a  Christian.  The  major  disagreed  with  them,  and  it  was 
noble,  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  spoke  of  the  pure  and  earn- 
est Pascal.  Generally,  however,  their  feeling  toward  men  of 
different  doctrinal  opinions  was  much  like  that  of  any  sectarians. 
The  Independent  clergyman  at  Hereford  says  that  the  most  he 
lias  known  are  men  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  that  they 
have  just  grasped  a  few  great  ideas,  which  the  Independents  have 
been  preaching  since  the  time  of  Cromwell.  And  certainly,  as 
compared  with  '  the  Church/  their  religious  character  is  most 
simple  and  free." 

In  additi&n  to  the  evidence  of  the  sincere  character  of  the 
"  Brethren"  instanced  above,  I  may  mention  that  another  of  our 
company  had  been  an  apothecary,  and  given  up  his  business  from 
a  conviction  that  Homeopathy  was  a  better  way  than  the  common 
drugging,  and  that  we  afterwards  met  one,  a  near  relative  of  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  noblemen  and  statesmen  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, who  had  retired  from  a  highly  honorable  and  lucrative  official 
position,  from  a  desire  to  live  more  in  accordance  with  his  reli- 
gious aspirations  than  his  duties  in  it  permitted.  I  shall  omit 
to  narrate  what  more  we  saw  of  them,  as  we  proceeded  further 
on  our  journey ;  but  must  say,  to  conclude,  that  if,  in  letting  no 
man  judge  them  in  meat  or  in  drink,  or  in  respect  of  a  holy  day 
— if,  in  teaching  and  admonishing  one  another  with  psalms  and 
hymns  and  spiritual  songs — if,  in  bowels  of  mercy,  kindness, 
humbleness  of  mind,  meekness,  self-sacrifice,  and  zealous  readi- 
ness to  every  good  work — if,  especially,  in  real  genuine  hospital- 
ity to  strangers,  there  be  any  thing  of  "  primitive  Christianity," 
our  entertainers  seemed  to  us  to  have  had  no  ordinary  degree  of 
success  in  their  purpose  to  return  to  it.  They  certainly  were  not 
without  their  share  of  bigotry  and  self-confidence  in  such  matters 
of  creed  as  they  happened  to  hold  in  common ;  but  this  did  not 


PRIMITIVE  CHRISTIANITY.  245 

seem  to  have  the  effect  upon  them  of  destroying  geniality  and 
good  fellowship,  nor  of  cramping  the  spirit  of  practical,  material, 
and  unromantic  benevolence.  They  were  quite  different,  too,  in 
their  way  of  talking  upon  those  subjects  on  which  they  conceived 

their  minds  to  be  "  at  rest,"  from  the  theological  students  at , 

whom describes  as  studying  as  if  they  had  bought  tickets 

for  the  night-train  to  heaven,  and,  having  requested  the  conductor 
to  call  them  when  they  got  there,  were  trying  to  get  into  the  most 
comfortable  position  to  sleep  it  through. 


246  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER   XXXVH. 

The  County  Jail  —  English  Prison  Discipline  —  The  Perfection  of  the  Pres- 
ent—  Education  and  Taxation  —  What  Next?  —  Captain  Machonochie  — 
The  Mark  System  —  The  Christian  Idea  of  Punishment. 

AFTER  breakfast,  we  visited  the  county  prison.  It  is  on  the 
plan  of  the  celebrated  Pentonville  model  prison,  near  Lon- 
don, which  is  supposed  to  be  an  improvement  on  what  is  called 
the  Philadelphia  plan.  Any  of  my  readers  who  are  much  inter- 
ested in  the  great  and  puzzling  problem  of  prison  discipline,  are 
probably  familiar  with  the  elements  of  the  last  experiment  of  the 
British  Government  upon  the  sad  subject. 

This  specimen  of  it  at  Hereford  was  all  that  could  be  asked 
for  in  its  way.  Evidently,  no  skill  in  planning  and  no  expense 
in  execution  had  been  wanting  to  make  it  as  perfect  as  such  a 
thing  could  be. 

We  were  first  conducted  through  several  long,  light,  and  airy 
corridors,  upon  which  opened  the  well-ventilated  sleeping-cells  of 
the  prisoners — each  cell  appearing  the  perfection  of  a  cell,  as  if 
made  to  the  order  of  some  rich  amateur  rascal,  in  the  most  com- 
plete and  finished  style  which  would  be  appropriate  to  an  apart- 
ment bearing  that  designation ;  the  walls  of  plain  hewn  stone, 
but  white  as  a  bishop's  linen ;  the  floor  damp-proof,  of  asphalte  ; 
the  bedstead  of  iron,  the  bed  of  sufficiently  appropriate  coarse- 


HEREFORD  JAIL.  247 


ness,  snugly  and  neatly  made  up  as  if  by  the  joint  labor  of  a 
tasteful  upholsterer  and  a  skillful  laundress ;  warmed  on  the  hot- 
water  plan ;  furnished  with  a  wash-bowl,  and  constant  pure  water 
by  pipes ;  softly  lighted  by  filtrated  beams  of  sunshine  by  day, 
and  a  batswing  burner  at  night ;  provided  also  with  a  bell  or 
signal,  by  which  the  interesting  inmate  may  at  any  time,  in  case 
of  bodily  ailment,  summon  a  well- diplomaed  physician  to  his 
relief,  or  a  perfectly  authenticated,  veritable  and  legitimate  "  de- 
scendant of  the  apostles,"  in  case  he  should  be  taken  suddenly 
aback  with  repentance  during  the  night :  at  every  bed-head,  too 
— regularly  as  the  crucifix  in  the  dormitories  of  monks,  or  the 
squat,  yellow  "Josh"  in  Chinese  cabins — a  bible.  "The  Bible ! 
ah,  how  must  his  heart  melt,  and  his  dark  mind  be  enlightened, 
as  in  his  retirement  from  the  wild  temptations  of  the  wicked 
world,  the  prisoner  is  left  to  be  absorbed  in  its  glorious  tidings. 
What  a  feast,  what  a  treasure,  what  a  — "  Nay,  the  shining 
leather  and  sticking  leaves  tell  us  that  even  Bible  Societies  may 
throw  pearls  before  swine. 

"  Aye,"  says  the  turnkey :  "He  can't  read — a  young  chap — in 
for  two  months ;  petty  larceny." 

"We  open  and  read :  —  "  He  that  knew  not,  and  did  commit 
things  worthy  of  stripes,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes.  For 
unto  whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him  shall  much  be  required ; 
and  to  whom  men  have  committed  much,  of  him  they  will  ask 
the  more." 

It  was  given  him  to  have  a  mind  uneducated,  except  in  igno- 
rance and  criminal  contrivance,  and  it  was  required  of  him,  he 
might  tell  us,  either  to  starve  or  to  steal ;  and  then  there  is  given 
him  good,  comfortable,  clean,  wholesome  air,  water,  food,  lodging, 
and  exercise  (not  work).  Moreover,  there  is  added  this  sealed 
book. 

But  we  are  not  allowed  to  moralize  or  criticise.     We  are  ex- 


248  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

pected  only  to  admire,  and  are  passed  along  to  the  culinary 
department. 

Perfection  again — of  a  kitchen  with  an  admirable,  stout,  digni- 
fied chef,  graduate  of  Paris  doubtless,  presiding.  The  diet-table, 
he  explains  to  us,  is  scientifically  ordered ;  the  beef  and  bread 
and  vegetables  are  of  the  best,  and  we  are  shown  how  the  quan- 
tity for  each  man,  in  each  particular,  is  accurately  weighed  out. 
The  patients  are  also  weighed  periodically,  and  the  allowance  of 
food  and  of  exercise  is  studiously  adjusted  to  the  condition  of 
each. 

Next  we  are  taken  to  the  day-cells,  which  are  in  several  sepa- 
rate courts.  Within  each  is  an  ingeniously-contrived  crank, 
attached  to  a  common  shaft,  revolving  through  all.  This  crank 
is  the  exerciser.  The  prisoner  stands  at  a  certain  distance  before 
it,  takes  hold  of  it  with  both  hands,  and,  as  it  turns,  a  certain 
motion  is  given  to  his  whole  body — the  most  healthful  sort  of 
motion :  expanding  the  chest,  and  moving  every  joint  of  his 
limbs.  He  remains  in  this  cell  ten  hours  each  day,  Sundays  ex- 
cepted ;  and  the  usual  allowance  of  exercise  is  half  an  hour,  with 
ten  minutes  rest  after  it,  continued  alternately  during  that  time. 
There  is  a  library  in  the  prison,  from  which  primers,  picture- 
books,  and  tracts,  are  served  out  for  the  exercise  of  his  mind 
during  the  ten  minutes  bodily  rests. 

For  Sundays  there  is  provided  another  sort  of  cells,  which  are 
so  arranged  that  each  prisoner  can  look  at  the  same  central  point, 
but  cannot  see  any  other  prisoner.  At  the  central  point  is  placed 
an  humble  vessel,  (doubtless  as  perfect  as  can  be  made  by  ordi- 
nances, and  duly  clad  in  regulation  vesture,)  from  which  a  stated 
dose  of  gospel  privileges  is  scientifically  exhibited,  and  system- 
atically imbibed  by  every  patient — prisoner  I  mean.  There  are 
two  such  rations  given  on  Sunday,  with  a  dinner  between,  and 
opportunity  for  reflection  in  private,  before  and  after. 


PRISON  DISCIPLINE..  249 

It  is  a  first  principle  of  the  plan  that  labor  should  end  where 
it  begins.  The  exercising  shaft  is  sometimes  applied  to  a  pump- 
brake,  to  fill  the  reservoir  over  the  prison  with  water,  but  never 
in  any  other  way  saves  labor.  Pains  are  taken  in  every  way, 
not  with  absolute  success  it  is  admitted,  to  secure  utter  silence, 
and  to  prevent  all  communication  between  the  prisoners.  Crim- 
inals are  rarely  sent  here  for  more  than  twelve  months ;  and  it  is 
said  that,  with  all  the  science  and  care  that  can  be  devoted  to 
them,  their  health,  both  bodily  and  mental,  is  endangered,  if  their 
confinement  is  protracted  longer. 

It  may  be,  as  its  admirers  have  no  doubt,  the  happiest  idea  of 
a  prison  most  happily  realized  that  the  world  yet  knows ;  yet  it 
is  one  of  the  most  painful  things  to  examine  that  I  ever  saw.  It 
is  hardly  possible  to  speak  well  of  it  but  in  irony,  or  to  describe 
it  without  sarcasm,  so  absurd  seems  all  this  scientific  care  for  the 
well-being  —  physical,  mental,  and  moral  —  of  these  miserable 
transgressors,  contrasted  with  the  studied  neglect,  justified  and 
made  praiseworthy  by  strictly  economical  and  religious  reasoning, 
of  the  unoffending  poor.  While  no  talent,  painstaking,  and  com- 
plicated machinery  is  too  expensive  and  cumbrous  to  be  devoted 
to  the  keeping  of  the  criminal,  of  the  unfortunate,  society,  through 
the  state,  still  says — Am  I  my  brother's  keeper? 

Hold  the  hand !  Dash  not  the  book  behind  the  grate,  my  con- 
servative friend ;  I  would  hint  at  nothing  more  dangerous  than 
education — a  word  one  may  yet  speak  in  America  without  being 
finally  condemned  as  an  infidel  and  a  socialist,  and  a  man  given 
to  isms.  Would  you  still  call  me  to  order,  remind  me  that  I  am 
writing  on  the  subject  of  prisons — English  prisons — and  that  I 
may  take  up  the  subject  of  schools  in  another  chapter.  Yet  there 
may  be  lessons  learned  from  prisons,  and  English  prisons  teach 
lessons  that  all  who  do  not  care  for  the  subject  of  education  would 
do  well  to  heed. 


250  AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

In  the  prisons  of  England,  in  1841,  it  was  found  that  out  of 
every  hundred  criminals  then  supported  by  the  state — 

33  had  never  learned  to  read  or  write ; 

56  were  able  to  read  and  write  imperfectly; 
7  were  able  to  read  and  write  well ;  and  only 
1  in  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  had   been  favored  with 
"  instruction  superior  to  reading  and  writing."  * 

Only  28  in  every  hundred  were  over  30  years  of  age. 

The  chaplain  of  the  Brecon  jail  reports,  that  though  the  ma- 
jority of  the  prisoners  to  whom  he  ministers  are  able  to  read 
imperfectly,  yet  their  education  has  been  so  defective  that  they 
have  no  notion  of  the  bearing  and  connection  of  one  part  of  a 
sentence  with  another.  Nine  out  of  ten  of  them  were  ignorant 
of  the  merest  rudiments  of  Christianity.  The  chaplain  of  the 
Bedford  jail  states,  that  the  great  majority  of  prisoners  there 
confined  are  "  ignorant,  stupid,  and  unconcerned."  Another  jail 
chaplain  observes  of  those  "  children,  or  men  still  childish,"  under 
his  care,  who  had  been  instructed  in  reading  and  writing,  "  they 
had  not  learned  to  think  about  or  understand  any  thing  that  they 
had  been  taught ;  the  ears  had  heard,  the  tongue  had  learned 
utterance,  but  the  mind  had  received  no  idea,  no  impression." 
(The  reader  may  be  reminded  of  what  I  said  of  sailors'  reading.f) 
From  the  Bucks  county  jail  it  is  reported  that  about  half  the 
prisoners  have  never  been  taught  to  read  and  write,  and  about 
one  quarter  are  ignorant  of  the  alphabet ;  and  that  "  ignorance  is 
uniformly  accompanied  with  the  greatest  depravity  "\ 

To  return  to  the  Hereford  jail :  I  intimated  that  every  thing 
said  in  admiration  of  it  seemed  necessarily  ironical  and  bitter ; 
but  I  do  recall  one  pleasant,  and,  I  doubt  not,  true  word,  for  it — 
"it  is  a  palace  compared  with  the  old  one." 

*  Parliamentary  Document,  1842. 

tP- 25. 

J  Jail  Returns  to  the  House  of  Commons.  1848 


WHAT  NEXT?  251 


Yes,  to  be  sure,  that  is  good.  No  one  will  ask  us  to  go  back 
to  packing  criminals,  and  all  under  surveillance  of  the  law,  pro- 
miscuously into  stone  pens,  giving  them  rotten  straw  to  rest  upon, 
and  supplying  only  the  cheapest  food  that  may  answer  the  pur- 
pose of  keeping  body  and  soul  together.  Few  will  be  inclined 
to  think  that  the  world's  prisons — hell  triumphant  in  Austria  and 
Naples,  excepted — are  not  better  now  than  in  the  day  of  Howard. 
Progress  there  has  been ;  progress  there  must  be.  This  palace- 
prison  is  but  a  mile-stone  on  the  road. 

What  next  ?  There  are  some  pamphlets  before  me  in  which 
an  answer  to  this  question  is  attempted  to  be  given.*  The  matter 
is  one  of  so  much  difficulty  and  so  great  importance,  so  nearly 
connected  with  the  progress  of  Christianity  and  civilized  law,  and 
the  plan  of  a  new  prison  is  so  often  to  be  discussed  and  estab- 
lished among  all  our  states  and  counties,  that  I  must  beg  my 
readers  to  carefully  examine  the  new  system  of  punishment  that 
they  propose,  and  I  urge  it  the  more,  because,  so  far  as  I  know,  it 
has,  up  to  this  time,  entirely  escaped  the  attention  of  the  Ameri- 
can press. 

But  first  let  us  distinctly  recall  to  mind  what  is  most  unsatis- 
factory and  clearly  defective  in  our  present  prisons  and  system 
of  criminal  punishment. 

There  are  two  general  principles  with  regard  to  the  punish- 
ment of  crime  that  have  been  theoretically  received  and  approved 
in  the  minds  of  all  enlightened  and  Christian  people,  and  yet  to 
which  there  is  much  in  our  present  system  that  is  practically 
false  and  repugnant.  We  say  "necessarily  so,"  and  that  this 

*  "  The  Principles  of  Punishment,"  by  Captain  Machonochie,  R.  N.,  K.  H. :  J.  Ollivier, 
Pall  Mall,  London.  "  Crime  and  Punishment."  by  Captain  Machonochie :  J.  Hatchard 
&  Son,  London.  An  "  Essay  on  Criminal  Jurisprudence,"  by  Mannaduke  B.  Sampson : 
Highley  &  Son,  London.  These  works  may  all  be  obtained  through  the  agency  of  the 
publishers,  and  will  be  found  to  contain  (especially  the  last)  most  valuable  hints  and 
suggestions  applicable  to  other  matters  besides  prison  discipline.  Their  cost  is  trifling. 


252  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

necessity  is  one  of  the  awful  results  of  crime  or  sin.  God 
knows  if  we  are  right.  If  not,  we  are  terribly  wrong. 

The  principles  or  rules  with  regard  to  punishment,  to  which  I 
refer,  are  these :  that  it  should  not  be  vindictive  or  revengeful, 
for  it  is  not  the  business  of  human  jurisprudence  to  satisfy  the 
abstract  claims  of  justice,  "  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord." 
That,  on  the  other  hand,  it  should  be  our  purpose,  in  the  treat- 
ment of  criminals,  so  far  as  may  be  consistent  with  the  good  of 
society,  to  do  them  good,  to  make  them  better,  stronger  and  hap- 
pier. This  also  is  a  corollary  of  the  second  principle,  which  I 
would  recall  to  mind,  namely :  That  the  great  end  of  criminal 
law  is  to  prevent,  discourage  and  lessen  crime. 

Yet,  practically,  among  the  mass  of  our  community,  the  pun- 
ishment of  criminals  is  engaged  in  as  if  it  were  the  satisfaction  of 
a  vindictive  feeling  against  an  enemy  of  society,  a  satisfaction 
that  the  law  makes  him  pay  in  the  inconvenience  and  suffering 
of  his  confinement  and  hard  labor,  for  the  injury  he  has  done  so- 
ciety or  some  member  of  society.  Practically,  the  criminal  has 
the  counterpart  of  this  feeling,  considering  that  society  looks  upon 
him  as  its  enemy,  and,  when  it  catches  him,  vindictively  makes 
him  suffer  for  his  crime,  as  if  it  were  a  match  between  him  and 
the  law,  in  which  he  was  the  loser ;  and  the  effect  of  looking 
upon  it  in  this  way  is  to  aggravate  and  intensify  the  evil  which 
we  theoretically  propose  to  cure  by  his  imprisonment. 

It  is  true,  that  in  accordance  with  the  purpose  of  improving 
the  character  of  criminals  during  (I  cannot  say  by)  their  impris- 
onment, we  employ  chaplains  to  preach  and  counsel  them,  and 
give  them  books,  which,  it  is  supposed,  in  the  absence  of  any 
other  employment  of  the  mind,  may  engage  their  attention.  And 
these  are  the  only  means  employed  at  present  for  the  purpose  of 
training  them  to  be  active,  efficient,  industrious  and  well-disposed 
members  of  society,  upon  their  release.  Few  will  be  inclined 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IDEA  OF  PUNISHMENT.  253 

to  deny  that  for  this  purpose  these  means  constantly  prove  them- 
selves entirely  inadequate ;  that,  in  this  respect,  our  system  is  a 
constant  and  complete  failure.  Why  ? 

Let  us  see :  The  criminal  is  sentenced,  we  will  suppose,  for 
ten  years,  and  finds  himself  locked  into  a  narrow  cell,  where  it  is 
only  at  occasional  and  comparatively  distant  intervals  that  he 
can  be  communicated  with,  even  by  his  keeper,  chaplain  or  phy- 
sician, the  only  human  beings  who  have  access  to  him.  It  may 
be  for  a  certain  time  each  day  he  is  set  to  labor ;  hard  labor  be- 
ing given  him,  not  as  a  privilege,  not  as  a  relief,  not  as  a  means 
of  bettering  his  condition,  or  in  any  way  as  to  be  loved  and  val- 
ued ;  but  as  an.  addition  to  the  punishment  of  solitary  confine- 
ment. He  is  mainly  left  to  his  own  thoughts.  His  recollections 
are  vicious ;  are  his  anticipations  likely  to  be  virtuous  ?  "With 
ten  years  to  be  spent  under  these  circumstances,  to  what  will  his 
mind  be  most  likely  to  direct  itself?  To  relief  from  monotony, 
to  anything  which  promises  excitement,  to  dramatic  action,  to 
overcome  or  mislead  the  minds  he  finds  acting  upon  him,  or  to 
self-forgetfulness,  sleep,  sloth,  and  to  the  avoidance  of  so  much  of 
the  punishment  imposed  upon  him  as  possible,  that  is  to  the  hard 
labor  part,  in  which  his  only  success  must  be  obtained  by  decep- 
tion. Thus,  with  whatever  preaching  in  words,  his  training  is 
directly  to  hatred  and  contempt  of  labor  as  a  means  of  no  good, 
but  only  of  fatigue  to  himself,  to  unwholesome  mental  excitement, 
to  deception  and  to  perfect  indolence  and  uselessness. 

And  is  this  lame,  inconsistent  plan,  so  working  at  cross 
purposes,  the  end  of  all  the  philanthropic  labors,  private  and 
associated,  that  have  been  given  to  the  subject  during  the  last 
fifty  years  ?  The  result,  friends,  not  the  end.  Then,  in  God's 
name,  what  next  ? 

An  answer  from  Captain  Machonochie  will  be  found  in  the 
Appendix  B,  and  I  again  beg  for  it,  with  all  earnestness,  the 


254  AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

thoughtful  perusal  of  my  countrymen.  It  is  based  on  plain,  dis- 
tinct, uncontradictory  principles,  which  are  applicable  to  the 
punishment  of  all  criminals,  and  to  the  construction  of  all  crimi- 
nal laws.  It  is  the  plan  of  no  closet  philosopher,  but  of  a  cool- 
headed,  warm-hearted  sailor,  who  was  chosen  by  his  government, 
for  his  manifest  natural  qualifications  for  undertaking  the  super- 
intendence of  criminals,  to  take  charge  of  one  of  its  most  difficult 
penal  establishments.  It  is  a  plan  that  has  been  well  considered, 
and  is  ably  defended  to  the  minutest  details,  as  the  reader,  who 
is  willing  to  study  it  further,  will  find,  on  referring  to  the  pamph- 
lets I  have  mentioned  in  the  note  on  a  previous  page.* 

*  For  a  refutation  of  objections,  see,  particularly,  the  Report  of  the  Committee  on 
Criminal  Law  of  the  "  Society  for  Promoting  the  Amendment  of  the  Law." 


THE  DEBTORS'  PRISON.  255 


CHAPTER  XXXVILE. 

A  Hit  —  The  Debtor's  Prison —Utter  Cleanliness  —  "  City  »  and  "  Town  " 
—  "  Down  "  and  "  Up  "  —  Hereford  Cathedral  —  Church  and  State —The 
Public  Promenade. 

T  MUST  not  forget  two  incidents  of  our  visit  to  the  jail.  Pun- 
•*•  ishment  is  inflicted  by  withholding  food ;  also,  I  imagine,  for 
slight  offenses,  in  other  ways.  An  officer  with  us  noticed  some 
untidiness  of  dress  upon  one  of  the  prisoners,  and  pointing  to  it, 
said — "You  are  an  Englishman :  I  don't  want  to  treat  you  as  an 
Irishman"  As  we  entered  a  certain  apartment,  our  conductor 
said,  "This  is  the  debtors'  prison." 

One  of  us  remarked,  "  We  have  generally  abolished  imprison- 
ment for  debt  in  the  United  States." 

The  officer,  quietly,  "It's  a  pity  that  you  have." 
The  quarters  of  the  debtors  were  not  cells,  but  decent  rooms, 
and  there  was  a  large  hall  common  to  them.  Every  thing  here, 
though,  as  every  where  else,  was  awfully  clean,  dreary  and  math- 
ematical ;  a  housekeeper  gone  mad,  such  as  I  know  of,  would 
have  thought  it  heaven.  I  should  suppose  that  the  prisoners 
would  long,  more  than  for  anything  else,  to  have  one  good  roll  in 
the  gutter,  and  an  unmeasured  mouthful  of  some  perfectly  indi- 
gestible luxury.  It  was  a  relief,  after  being  but  an  hour  within 


256  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

the  walls,  to  step  out  once  more  into  the  good  old  mud  and  clouds 
and  smells  of  Nature  again. 

Among  the  debtors,  one  was  pointed  out  to  us  as  a  well-edu- 
cated lawyer,  formerly  having  a  large  and  respectable  practice, 
and  enjoying  a  considerable  fortune.  He  had  been  confined  for 
several  years,  but,  it  was  thought,  would  soon  be  released.  The 
placards  of  an  association  for  taking  the  part  of  imprisoned  debt- 
ors were  posted  in  the  hall. 


The  title  city  is  applied,  in  England,  only  to  a  town  which  is 
the  residence  of  a  bishop,  and  is  equivalent  to  "a  cathedral  town." 
Hereford  is  a  city ;  Chester  is  a  city ;  but  Liverpool,  with  ten 
times  the  population  of  both  of  them,  is  not  a  city.  The  term 
town,  again,  in  England,  is  never  applied  to  the  subdivisions  of  a 
county  (a  township),  but  is  used  to  designate  a  place  that  is 
closely  built,  and  with  a  considerable  population  —  what  we 
should  give  the  title  of  city  to.  Thus  London,  the  largest  town, 
is  every  where  called  "the  town."  "The  city"  designates  a 
small  part  of  London,  near  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul.  (All  over 
Great  Britain  they  speak  of  going  "up  to  London,"  never 
"down."  This  use  of  "down"  and  "up,"  meaninglessly,  in  a 
sentence,  I  had  supposed  was  a  "down-east"  idiom;  but  it  is 
common  in  old  England.) 

The  cathedral  at  Hereford,  built  in  the  time  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  is  in  a  more  ornamented  style  of  Gothic  than  any  an- 
cient religious  edifice  we  had  seen.  I  did  not  greatly  admire  it. 
Considerable  additions  or  repairs  have  been  lately  made.  On 
one  of  the  new  gables  I  wras  surprised  to  see  some  fifty  of  those 
grotesque  heads,  freshly  cut.  They  were  not  very  ugly,  or  very 
droll — indeed,  had  no  marked  character,  or  any  thing  that  showed 
a  gem'us,  even  for  the  comical,  in  their  designer  or  executer. 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  257 

They  were  not  necessary  to  the  harmony  of  the  modern  work 
with  the  old ;  were,  I  think,  discordant,  and  what  they  were  put 
there  for  I  don't  know.  Extensive  alterations  had  lately  been 
made  in  the  choir,  and  it  was  the  most  convenient  hall  for  public 
exercises  that  I  recollect  to  have  seen  in  any  English  cathedral. 
The  ceiling  was  painted  (in  encaustic)  in  the  bright-colored 
bizarre  style  that  I  spoke  of  at  the  castle  near  Shrewsbury.  As 
I  entered,  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  in  bad  taste  for  a  place  of  med- 
itation and  worship.  We  attended  the  daily  morning  service, 
and  heard  some  fine,  gentle  music  —  the  organ  sweetly  played, 
and  the  singers  all  boys. 

I  noticed  that  our  dissenting  friends  seemed  to  have  a  pride 
and  sense  of  possession  in  the  cathedral,  as  if  they  were  not  in 
the  habit  of  thinking  of  it  as  belonging  exclusively  to  those  who 
occupied  it,  but  as  if  it  was  intrusted  to  them,  and  as  well  to  them 
as  to  any  other  division,  as  representative  of  the  whole  Catholic 
Church  of  all  English  Christians.  This  way  of  looking  upon 
"  the  Church"  usurpations  is  quite  commonly  observable  among 
the  dissenters.  It  is  not  so  honorable  to  them  when  applied  to 
other  things  than  mere  furniture ;  as,  for  instance,  giving  the  ex- 
clusive teaching  of  religious  doctrine  to  the  children,  or  paupers, 
or  soldiers,  in  whom  they  have  a  common  interest,  to  the  State 
Church,  from  a  supposed  necessity  of  giving  it  to  some  one  in 
preference  to  all  others ;  and  if  not  to  their  particular  church, 
then  of  best  right  to  the  church  of  the  strongest.  The  idea  that 
some  State  Church,  separated  from  others  by  its  doctrinal  basis, 
is  expedient,  and  almost  necessary,  to  a  Christian  government,  is 
quite  common  among  dissenters.  In  my  judgment,  it  cannot  be 
expedient,  because  it  is  very  evidently  unjust.  What  is  in  the 
least  degree  unjust  can  never  be  expedient  for  a  state,  the  very 
purpose  of  which  should  be  to  elevate  and  secure  justice  among 
the  people  who  live  under  its  laws. 

17 

I 


258  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Nor  can  I  conceive  of  any  thing  so  likely  to  strangle  a  church 
as  to  be  hung  with  exclusive  privileges  from  the  state.  For  what 
are  these  ?  Bribes  for  the  profession  of  doctrines  and  the  accept- 
ance of  rules  of  debatable  expediency ;  giving  encouragement,  so 
far  as  they  have  any  influence  (that  they  would  not  have  if  the 
church  were  independent  of  the  power  of  the  state),  to  insincerity 
and  the  unearnest  formation  of  opinions  —  to  unreality,  which  is 
deadness  in  a  church. 

That  the  constant  practice  of  perjury  and  the  most  miserably 
Jesuitical  notions  of  truth  and  falsehood,  and  that  weakness  and 
imbecility  of  both  Church  and  State,  is  the  direct  and  inevitable 
result  at  the  present  day  of  such  a  connection  as  is  attempted  to 
be  sustained  between  them  in  England,  is  as  obvious  and  certain 
to  me  as  any  thing  can  be,  that  such  great  and  good  men  as  the 
divines  and  statesmen  of  England  have  different  opinions  with 
regard  to. 

There  is  a  large  green,  close  planted  with  trees,  about  the 
cathedral,  and  facing  upon  it  are  the  official  residences  of  the 
regiment  of  clergy,  high  priests  and  low,  that  under  some  form  or 
other  are  provided  with  livings  in  connection  with  it.  In  front 
of  one  of  the  barracks  was  planted  a  bomb-mortar  —  with  what 
signification  ? 

There  is  another  public  promenade  in  Hereford,  upon  the  site 
of  an  old  castle  which  was  demolished  by  Cromwell.  The  ram- 
parts are  grassed  over,  and  there  are  fine  trees,  ponds,  gravel- 
walks,  an  obelisk  in  honor  of  Nelson,  some  graceful  irregularities 
of  surface,  and  a  broad,  purling  stream  of  clear  water  flowing  by 
it  all.  Here,  before  noon,  we  found  a  considerable  company,  of 
varied  character:  ladies  walking  briskly  and  talking  animatedly; 
invalids,  wrapped  up  and  supported,  loitering  in  the  sun ;  cripples, 
moving  about  in  wheel-chairs ;  students  or  novel-readers  in  the 


THE  REP  UBLIO  IN  ENGLAND.  259 

deepest  shades;  and  every  where,  many  nursery-maids  with 
children.  Not  a  town  have  we  seen  in  England  but  has  had  a 
better  garden-republic  than  any  town  I  know  of  in  the  United 
States, 


260  JLV  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Shady  Lanes  —  Rural  Sketches  —  Herefordshire  and  Monmouthshire  Scene- 
ry —  Points  of  Difference  in  English  and  American  Landscapes  —  Visit 
to  a  Farm-House  —  The  Mistress  —  The  Farm-House  Garden  —  A  Stout 
Old  English  Farmer  —  The  Stables  and  Stock—  Turnip  Culture  —  Sheep 
—  Wheat  —  Hay  —  Rents  —  Prices  —  A  Parting  —  Cider. 


off  the  main  road  soon  after  leaving  Hereford,  we 
•  pursued  our  way,  guided  by  the  gentleman  who  had  so  kindly 
entertained  us,  for  several  miles  through  narrow  by-ways.  It 
was  a  rarely  clear,  bright,  sunshiny  afternoon,  and  while  on  the 
broad  highway  we  had  found,  for  the  first  time  in  England,  the 
temperature  of  the  air  more  than  comfortably  warm.  The  more 
agreeable  were  the  lanes  ;  —  narrow,  deep,  and  shady,  often  not 
wider  than  the  cart-track,  and  so  deep,  that  the  grassy  banks  on 
each  side  were  higher  than  our  heads  ;  our  friend  could  not  ex- 
plain how  or  why  they  were  made  so,  but  probably  it  was  by  the 
rain  washing  through  them  for  centuries.  On  the  banks  were 
thickly  scattered  the  flowers  of  heart's-ease,  forget-me-not,  and 
wild  strawberries  ;  above,  and  out  of  them,  grew  the  hawthorn 
hedges  in  thick,  but  wild  and  wilsome  verdure,  and  pushing  out 
of  this,  and  stretching  over  us,  often  the  branches  mingling  over 
our  heads  and  shutting  out  the  sky  clear  beyond  the  next  turn, 
so  we  seemed  walking  in  a  bower,  thick  old  apple  and  pear  trees 


RURAL  SCENES.  261 


with  pliant  twigs  of  hazel-wood,  and  occasionally  the  strong  arms 
of  great  brooding  elms.  Then  we  came  upon  a  low,  thick- 
thatched  cottage  with  many  bends  in  the  ridge-pole,  with  little 
windows,  and  thick  walls ;  a  cat  asleep  in  the  door,  and  pigs  and 
chickens  before  it,  and,  lying  on  the  ground,  in  the  dust  of  the 
lane,  playing  with  a  puppy,  two  or  three  flaxen-haired,  blue-eyed 
children ;  a  little  further,  a  drowsy  old  she-ass  standing  in  the 
shade,  and  a  mouse-colored  foal,  as  little  as  a  lamb,  but  with  a 
great  head  and  large,  plaintive  dark  eyes,  and  a  meek  and  touch- 
ing expression  of  infantile,  embryo  intellect. 

Now  and  then  the  hedge  is  interrupted  by  the  wall  of  a  pad- 
dock or  stack-yard ;  beyond  it,  a  number  of  dilapidated  hovels, 
sheds,  and  stables,  clustering  without  any  appearance  of  arrange- 
ment about  a  low  farm-house  with  big  chimneys,  wide  windows, 
and  a  little  porch  half  hidden  under  roses,  jessamine,  and  honey- 
suckle. 

Sometimes  a  big  dog  would  bay  at  us,  and,  a  woman  coming 
to  the  door,  our  friend  would  ask,  "  How  is  the  master  and  the 
little  ones?"  and  in  turn  be  asked,  "How  is  good  mistress  and 
young  master?"  And  then  we  would  be  presented  as  strangers, 
who  had  come  over  the  sea  to  view  this  goodly  land,  and  would 
be  asked,  in  pitying  tones,  about  famine,  and  fever,  and  potatoes 
— the  farm-wife,  although  she  had  an  exceedingly  sweet  speech, 
apparently  confounding  New  York  with  Connaught  or  Munster. 

Again,  broad  fields,  and  stout  horses,  and  busy  laborers,  and 
straight  plow-furrows,  or  the  bright  metallic  green  of  luxuriant 
young  wheat  and  barley,  in  broad  glades  of  glancing  light ;  and 
a  stout  old  man,  who  waddles  towards  us  with  a  warm  greeting, 
wiping  the  sweat  from  his  brow,  and  mounting  "  a  goodish  bit  of 
stuff,  though  she  has  seen  twenty  winters,"  rides  for  a  little  way 
along  with  us,  breathing  hard  and  speaking  huskily ;  grumbling, 
grumbling  at  Free  Trade  and  high  rents,  but  answering  all  our 


262  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

questions  about  his  draining,  and  boneing,  and  drilling,  and  dib- 
bling, and  very  frankly  acknowledging  how  much  he  has  been  able 
to  increase  his  crops  with  new-fashioned  ways  and  new-fangled 
implements. 

Then  leaving  the  lane,  we  take  a  foot-path,  which,  crossing  the 
hedges  by  stiles,  leads  through  old  orchards,  in  all  of  which  horses 
and  cattle  are  pasturing ;  and  there  are  beautiful  swells  of  the 
ground,  and  sometimes  deep  swales  of  richer  green,  with  rushes 
and  willows  growing  at  the  bottom.  Reaching  a  steeper  hill-side, 
we  enter  a  large  plantation  of  young  forest  trees,  and  soon  pass 
all  at  once  into  an  older  growth  of  larger  and  more  thinly  stand- 
ing wood ;  and  near  the  top  of  this,  find  a  clearing,  where  men 
are  making  faggots  of  the  brushwood,  and  stripping  bark  from  the 
larger  sticks,  and  some  little  boys  and  girls  are  picking  up  chips 
and  putting  them  into  sacks. 

We  reach  another  lane  and  cultivated  fields,  and,  being  on 
elevated  ground,  at  the  gnarly  feet  of  a  gray,  old  beech-tree,  lay 
down,  and,  looking  back  upon  the  extensive  landscape,  tell  our 
friend  in  what  it  differs  from  American  scenery. 

The  chief  peculiarity  of  the  English  landscape  is  found  in  the 
frequent  long,  graceful  lines  of  deep  green  hedges  and  hedge-row 
timber,  crossing  hill,  valley,  and  plain  in  every  direction ;  and  in 
the  occasional  large  trees,  dotting  the  broad  fields,  either  singly 
or  in  small  groups,  left  to  their  natural  open  growth,  (for  ship- 
timber,  and,  while  they  stand,  for  cattle  shades,)  therefore 
branching  low  and  spreading  wide,  and  more  beautiful,  much 
more  beautiful,  than  we  allow  our  trees  to  make  themselves. 
The  less  frequent  brilliancy  of  broad  streams  or  ponds  of  water, 
also  distinguishes  the  prospect  from  those  to  which  we  are  most 
accustomed,  though  there  are  often  small  brooks  or  pools,  and 
much  marshy  land,  and  England  may  be  called  a  well-watered 
country.  In  the  foreground  you  will  notice  the  quaint  buildings, 


LANDSCAPE  PECULIARITIES.  263 

generally  pleasing  objects  in  themselves,  often  supporting  what 
is  most  agreeable  of  all,  and  that  you  can  never  fail  to  admire, 
never  see  any  thing  ugly  or  homely  under,  a  drapery  of  ivy  or 
other  creepers  ;  the  ditches  and  banks  by  their  side,  on  which  the 
hedges  are  planted ;  the  clean  and  careful  cultivation,  and  gen- 
eral tidiness  of  the  agriculture ;  and  the  deep,  narrow,  crooked, 
gulch-like  lane,  or  the  smooth,  clean,  matchless  highway. 

There  seems  to  me  to  be  a  certain  peculiarity  in  English  foli- 
age, which  I  can  not  satisfactorily  describe.  It  is  as  if  the  face 
of  each  leaf  was  more  nearly  parallel  with  all  others  near  it,  and 
as  if  all  were  more  equally  lighted  than  in  our  foliage.  It  is 
perhaps  only  owing  to  a  greater  density,  and  better  filling  up, 
and  more  even  growth  of  the  outer  twigs  of  the  trees,  than  is 
common  in  our  dryer  climate. 

There  is  a  much  smaller  variety  in  the  forest  foliage,  and 
usually  a  much  milder  light  over  an  English  landscape  than  an 
American,  making  the  distances  and  shady  parts  more  indistinct. 
The  sublime  or  the  picturesque  in  nature  is  much  more  rare  in 
England,  except  on  the  sea-coast,  than  in  America ;  but  there  is 
every  where  a  great  deal  of  quiet,  peaceful,  graceful  beauty  which 
the  works  of  man  have  generally  added  to,  and  which  I  remem- 
ber but  little  like  at  home.  This  Herefordshire  reminds  me  of 
the  valley  of  Connecticut,  between  Middletown  and  Springfield. 
The  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  Hudson,  is 
also  in  some  parts  English-like. 

After  all  here  said,  I  feel  that  there  is  a  fascination  in  the 
common-place  scenery  of  this  part  of  England,  and  generally  of 
midland,  rural  England,  which  I  do  not  fully  comprehend.  I 
have  called  it  common-place,  because  there  is  nothing  striking  in 
it ;  no  one  point  to  be  especially  noted,  or  which  can  be  remem- 
bered afterwards.  Yet,  though  I  have  traveled  far  and  wide, 
have  visited  scores  of  places  greatly  celebrated  for  the  grandeur 


264  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

of  their  scenery,  and  have  dwelt  for  months  in  the  most  beautiful, 
purely  natural  scenes  of  a  pastoral  character  in  the  world  (in 
Western  Texas),  I  have  been  no  where  else  so  charmed  as  I 
was  continually  while  walking  through  those  parts  of  England 
least  distinguished,  and  commonly  least  remarked  upon  by  trav- 
elers as  beautiful.  The  scenery  is  beautiful  without  intention  or 
artifice  for  the  purpose  of  man,  and  yet  is  full  of  the  convenience 
of  man's  occupation ;  and  it  is  picturesque  without  being  ungentle 
or  shabby.  (1858.) 

Descending  into  a  broad,  low  tract  of  dale-land,  we  came  at 
length  to  a  farm  occupied  by  a  relative  of  our  guide,  and  which 
was  his  destination.  A  branch  of  the  lane  in  which  we  had  been 
for  some  time  walking,  ran  through  the  farm,  and  terminated  at 
the  farm-house.  It  was  more  picturesque  and  inconvenient, 
deeper,  narrower,  and  muddier  than  any  we  had  before  been 
through.  It  was  explained  to  us  that  it  was  a  "parish  road" — 
although  leading  to  but  one  house — and,  therefore,  the  farmer 
was  not  responsible  for  its  bad  repair.*  Great  trees  grew  up  at 
its  side,  and  these  the  farmer  was  not  allowed  to  fell  or  trim — the 
landlord  estimating  the  value  of  their  increase  as  timber  or  for 
fuel,  or  their  advantage  as  a  nursery  of  game,  higher  than  the 
injury  they  caused  to  the  crops  in  the  adjoining  fields.  Near  the 
house  the  lane  widened,  and  one  side  was  flanked  by  a  symmet- 
rical yew-hedge ;  on  the  other  side,  however,  the  trees  and  high 
bank  still  continued,  and  two  stout  horses  were  straining  every 
muscle  to  draw  a  cart-load  of  crushed  bones  through  the  mire, 

*  In  the  proceedings  of  a  Parliamentary  Commission  of  the  last  century,  the  following 
questions  and  answers  are  recorded : 

Q.  What  sort  of  roads  hare  you  in  Monmouthshire  ? 

A.  None  at  all. 

Q.  How  do  you  travel  then  ? 

A.  In  ditches.— Survey  of  Monmouth. 


THE  FARM-HOUSE.  265 


which  reached  close  up  to  the  gable-end  of  the  house.  Opposite 
the  house  was  a  cider-mill,  cart-sheds,  and  some  stacks ;  behind 
it,  a  large  yard,  surrounded  by  stables,  sties,  dairy-house,  malt- 
house,  granary,  etc.  Into  this  enclosure  we  passed  by  a  great 
gate.  A  considerable  part  of  it  was  occupied  by"  a  large  heap 
of  manure  and  a  pool  of  green,  stagnant  liquid.  The  buildings  , 
were  mostly  old,  some  of  them  a  good  deal  decayed,  with  cracks 
in  the  brick-work,  timber  bending  and  sustained  by  props  and 
other  patch-work,  which  spoke  better  for  the  tenant  than  his 
landlord. 

By  a  wide  open  door,  directly  from  this  filthy  yard,  we  passed 
without  ceremony  into  the  kitchen — a  large,  long  room,  with 
stone  floor,  black  beams  across  the  low  ceiling,  from  which  hung 
sides  and  hams  of  pork,  a  high  settle,  as  usual,  but  not  the  ordi- 
nary kitchen  display  of  bright  metal  and  crockery.  Old  and 
well  worn,  every  tlu'ng,  but  neat  and  nice  as  brand-new.  On  a 
table  was  a  huge  loaf  with  a  large  piece  of  cold  fat  bacon  and  a 
slice  of  cheese,  and  directly  a  maid  came  up  from  the  cellar  and 
added  to  these  a  pint  of  foaming  beer — dinner  or  supper  for  the 
carter  just  returning  from  the  town,  whither  he  had  gone  early 
in  the  morning  with  a  load  of  wool,  and  had  now  brought  back 
bone-manure. 

We  are  seated  in  a  little  parlor,  and  the  "wench,"  as  our  friend 
addresses  her  (a  buxom  serving-maid),  goes  to  call  the  mistress. 
The  parlor  is  a  small  room  neatly  furnished ;  painted  deal  chairs, 
a  printed-calico-covered  lounge,  the  floor  carpeted,  and  the  walls 
papered ;  an  oak  writing-desk,  a  table  and  a  sewing-stand ;  no 
newspapers  or  books,  but  a  family-bible  on  the  mantel  and  an 
almanac  on  the  desk :  a  door  and  a  window  open  from  it  upon 
the  flower-garden. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  mistress  enters,  and,  after  kindly  receiv- 
ing us,  rings  a  bell,  and,  when  the  maid  comes,  gives  her  a  key 


266  AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

and  tells  her  to  bring  cider.  Presently  she  takes  us  into  the 
garden.  A  pleasant  garden,  with  plenty  of  large  and  fine  pan- 
sies,  some  roses,  and  great  promise  of  more.  It  is  extremely 
neat,  clean  and  finely  kept,  and  it  is  the  pride  of  the  mistress 
that  she  takes  the  entire  care  of  it  herself;  as  we  walk,  she  has 
her  scissors  in  her  hand,  and  cuts  flowers,  and  when  we  are  seat- 
ed in  a  curious  little  arbor  of  clipped  yew,  where  she  had  left 
her  "work"  when  she  came  in  to  see  us,  she  arranges  nosegays 
and  presents  them  to  us. 

The  house  is  small ;  the  walls  are  of  plain  red  brick ;  the  roof 
of  slate,  with  but  moderate  pitch ;  the  chimneys  and  windows  of 
the  usual  simple  American  country-house  form  and  size.  There 
is  no  porch,  veranda,  gable  or  dormer,  upon  the  garden  side, 
yet  the  house  has  a  very  pleasing  and  tasteful  aspect,  and  does 
not  at  all  disfigure  the  lovely  landscape  of  distant  woody  hills, 
against  which  we  see  it.  Five  shillings'  worth  of  material  from 
a  nursery,  half-a-day's  labor  of  a  man,  and  some  recreative  work 
of  our  fair  and  healthy  hostess'  own  hands,  have  done  it  vastly 
better  than  a  carpenter  or  mason  could  at  a  thousand  times  the 
cost  Three  large  evergreen  trees  have  grown  near  the  end  of 
the  house,  so  that,  instead  of  the  plain,  straight,  ugly  red  corner, 
you  see  a  beautiful,  irregular,  natural,  tufty  tower  of  verdure ; 
myrtle  and  jessamine  clamber  gracefully  upon  a  slight  trellis  of 
laths  over  the  door ;  roses  are  trained  up  about  one  of  the  lower 
windows,  honeysuckle  about  another,  while  all  the  others,  above 
and  below,  are  deeply  draped  and  festooned  with  the  ivy,  which, 
starting  from  a  few  slips  thrust  one  day  into  the  soil  by  the  mis- 
tress, near  the  corner  opposite  the  evergreens,  has  already  cov- 
ered two-thirds  of  the  bare  brick  wall  on  this  side,  found  its  way 
over  the  top  of  the  tall  yew-hedge,  round  the  comer,  climbed  the 
gable-end,  and  is  now  creeping  along  the  ridge-pole  and  up  the 
kitchen  chimney — which,  before  speaking  only  of  boiled  bacon 


THE  STABLES  —  GRO  UNDS.  267 

and  potatoes,  now  suggests  happy  holly-hangings  of  the  fireside 
and  grateful  harvest's  home,  hides  all  the  formal  lines  and  angles, 
breaks  all  the  stiff  rules  of  art,  dances  lightly  over  the  grave  pre- 
cision of  human  handiwork,  softens,  shades  and  shelters  all  under 
a  gorgeous  vesture  of  Heaven's  own  weaving. 

Soon,  while  we  are  sitting  in  this  leafy  boudoir,  comes  "the 
master,"  as  good  a  specimen  of  the  stout,  hearty,  old  English 
farmer  as  we  shall  find,  and  we  go — lady  and  all — to  look  at 
the  horses,  cows  and  pigs.  The  stables  are  mostly  small,  incon- 
veniently separated,  and  badly  fitted  up,  and  there  is  but  little  in 
them  to  boast  of  in  the  way  of  cattle ;  but  there  is  one  new  build- 
ing, incongruously  neat  among  the  rest,  and  in  this  there  are 
some  roomy  stalls,  with  iron  mangers,  sliding  neck-chains,  and 
asphalte  floor  with  grates  and  drain.  Here  is  the  best  stock  of 
the  farm :  among  the  rest,  a  fine,  fat  Hereford  cow,  which  has 
just  been  sold  to  the  butcher  for  $60,  and  a  handsome  heifer  of 
the  same  blood,  heavy  with  calf,  which  has  been  lately  bought 
for  $15,  the  farmer  chuckling  as  he  passes  his  hand  over  her 
square  rump,  as  if  it  had  been  a  shrewd  purchase.  He  values 
his  best  dairy  cow  at  $45. 

We  then  go  to  the  cider-mill  and  the  sheds  to  look  at  some 
implements ;  next  to  the  ground,  at  some  distance,  where  the  la- 
borers are  all  at  work  ridging  for  turnips,  (Swedes  or  Ruta-baga.) 
The  larger  part  of  the  field  is  already  planted,  and  in  some  other 
fields  the  young  plants  are  coming  up.  The  turnip  crop  of  the 
farm  this  year  is  to  be  grown  on  one  hundred  acres,  the  whole 
area  of  the  farm  being  less  than  three  hundred. 

The  soil  of  this  field  is  a  fine,  light  loam.  It  was  last  year  in 
wheat ;  the  stubble  was  turned  under  soon  after  harvest  with  a 
skin-coulter-plow,  an  instrument  that  pairs  off  the  surface  be- 
fore the  mould-board  of  the  plow,  and  throws  it  first  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  furrow ;  cross-plowed  and  scarified  again  the  same 


268  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

season  with  one  of  the  instruments  described  at  page  85  ;  in  the 
spring,  plowed  again,  (eight  inches  deep,)  harrowed  fine  and 
smooth,  thrown  into  ridges  with  double  mould-board  plow,  rolled, 
and  finally  drilled  with  a  two  horse  machine  that  deposits  and 
covers  manure  and  seed  together.  The  manure  is  ground  bones, 
costing  in  Hereford  60  £  cents  a  bushel,  mixed  with  sifted  coal- 
ashes.  The  expense  of  this  application  is  about  $12  an  acre, 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  ground  is  already  in  high 
condition.  The  drills  are  thirty  inches  apart.  The  crop  is  prin- 
cipally used  to  fatten  sheep,  of  which  500  are  kept  on  the  farm ; 
the  breed,  Cotswold  and  Leicester. 

We  next  went  to  a  paddock  in  which  were  six  Cotswold  "tups" 
(bucks),  as  handsome  sheep  (of  their  kind)  as  I  ever  saw.  One 
of  them  I  caught  and  measured :  girth  behind  the  shoulders,  ex- 
actly five  feet ;  length  from  muzzle  to  tail,  four  feet  and  eleven 
inches. 

Then  to  the  wheat,  of  which  there  was  also  about  one  hundred 
acres,  part  after  turnips  and  part  after  potatoes:  the  former, 
which  had  been  boned,  looked  the  best.  A  part  of  the  land  had 
been  prepared  by  a  presser  (a  corrugated  roller  used  to  give 
solidity  to  light  soils),  and  this  was  decidedly  superior  to  the 
remainder.  Most  of  the  wheat  was  put  in  with  drilling  machines, 
of  which  there  were  two  used,  one  sowing  at  greater  intervals 
than  the  other.  Some  of  the  wheat  upon  the  pressed  land,  after 
turnips,  was  the  finest  we  have  seen.  The  farmer  expected  it  to 
yield  forty  bushels  of  seventy  pounds  each,  but  would  consider  an 
average  of  thirty,  from  the  hundred  acres,  a  very  good  crop. 
He  said  the  average  crop  of  the  county  was  thought  to  be  but 
eighteen  and  a  half  bushels. 

We  afterwards  walked  through  some  pasture  and  a  grass-field, 
and  examined  the  hay  in  stacks;  mostly  rye-grass.  The  hay- 
fields  yielded  one  to  two  and  a  quarter  tons  an  acre,  the  average 


PRICES.  269 

being  under  two  tons.  It  took  about  four  days,to  cure  it  after 
cutting,  and  the  whole  cost  of  hay-making  was  about  four  dollars 
an  acre.  Hay  from  the  stack,  of  the  best  quality,  would  sell  at 
this  time  in  the  city  of  Hereford  for  twelve  dollars  a  ton. 

The  rent  of  this  farm  was  seven  dollars  and  a  half  an  acre  ; 
tithes,  one  dollar  and  a  quarter  an  acre ;  road-rates,  seventy 
cents  an  acre ;  all  paid  by  the  farmer,  together  with  poor-rates 
and  other  burdens. 

A  good  pair  of  sound,  well-broken,  but  rather  light  cart-horses, 
cost  here  $185 ;  horse-cart,  $60 ;  harness  and  gear  for  each 
horse,  $12.  A  smith  will  keep  a  horse  shod  for  $5  a  year.  In- 
surance of  horses  in  the  Royal  Farmers'  Company,  2J  per  cent, 
of  value  per  annum. 

After  taking  tea  at  the  farm-house,  our  kind  guide,  Brother 
,  made  ready  to  depart  by  stuffing  some  tracts,  publica- 
tions of  the  Brethren,  mostly  of  a  meditative  character,  into  our 
packs ;  we  might  learn  more  of  their  ideas  from  them,  he  said, 
and  if  they  did  not  interest  us,  or  after  we  had  read  them,  it 
might  do  some  one  else  good  to  leave  them  at  the  inns  where  we 
stopped,  or  in  the  public  conveyances.  He  begged  us  if  we  got 
into  any  trouble  or  needed  any  assistance  for  any  purpose  while 
in  England,  to  let  him  know ;  and  so  we  parted.  We  had  never 
heard  of  this  man,  nor  he  of  us,  till  twenty-four  hours  before. 
He  had  then  merely  received  word  that  three  American  Chris- 
tians— wayfarers — would  be  passing  through  his  town  that  night, 
and  so  he  came  out  into  the  highway  seeking  for  us,  found  us, 
and  had  so  entertained  us  as  I  have  shown.  He  would  now 
walk  several  miles  alone  and  return  home  by  the  night-coach. 

The  farmer  afterwards  had  his  favorite  greyhound  let  out  for 
us  to  see,  and  after  another  short  stroll,  finding  that  we  were  bent 
upon  leaving  him  that  night,  insisted  on  our  coming  to  the  gar- 
den again  and  tasting  some  choice  cider  made  from  the  Hagloe 


270  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

crab — the  pure  juice  he  assured  us  it  was — a  good  wholesome 
English  drink :  a  baby  might  fill  its  belly  with  it  and  feel  none 
the  worse.  So  sitting  on  the  door-steps,  the  lady  and  the  dog 
with  us,  we  remained  yet  a  long  time,  the  farmer  talking  first  of 
sporting  matters,  and  then  getting  into  the  everlasting  topics  of 
Free  Trade,  and  exorbitant  rents,  taxes  and  tithes. 


THE  BACK  PARISH.  271 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Walk  with  a  Rustic  —  Family  Meeting  —  A  Recollection  of  the  Rhine  — 
Ignorance  and  Degraded  Condition  of  the  English  Agricultural  Laborer 
—  How  he  is  Regarded  by  his  Superiors  —  The  Principles  of  Govern- 
ment—  Duties  of  the  Governing — Education  —  Slavery — The  Diet  of 
Laborers  —  Drink — Bread — Bacon — Fresh  Meat. 

"IT7E  were  bound  for  Monmouth  that  night,  and  soon  after  sun- 
set, having  one  of  the  farm  laborers  for  a  guide,  we  struck 
across  the  fields  into  another  lane.  About  a  mile  from  the  farm- 
house, there  was  a  short  turn,  and  at  the  angle — the  lane  nar- 
row and  deep  as  usual — was  a  small,  steep-roofed,  stone  building, 
with  a  few  square  and  arched  windows  here  and  there  in  it,  and 
a  perfectly  plain  cube  of  stone  for  a  tower,  rising  scarcely  above 
the  roof-tree,  with  an  iron  staff  and  vane  on  one  of  its  corners— 
"  Saint  Some-one's  parish  church."  There  was  a  small  graveyard, 
enclosed  by  a  hedge,  and  in  a  corner  of  this,  but  with  three  doors 
opening  in  front  upon  the  lane,  was  a  long,  crooked,  dilapidated 
old  cottage.  On  one  of  the  stone  thresholds,  a  dirty,  peevish- 
looking  woman  was  lounging,  and  before  her,  lying  on  the  ground 
in  the  middle  of  the  lane,  were  several  boys  and  girls  playing  or 
quarreling.  They  stopped  as  we  came  near,  and  rolling  out  of 
the  way,  stared  at  us  silently,  and  without  the  least  expression 
of  recognition,  while  we  passed  among  them.  As  we  went  on, 


272  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

the  woman  said  something  in  a  sharp  voice,  and  our  guide  shout- 
ed in  reply,  without,  however,  turning  his  head,  "  Stop  thy  maw 
— am  going  to  Ameriky,  aw  tell  thee."  It  was  his  "missis,"  he 
said. 

"Those  were  not  your  children  that  lay  in  the  road?" 

"Yaas  they  be — foive  of  'em." 

So  we  fell  into  a  talk  with  him  about  his  condition  and  pros- 
pects ;  but  before  I  describe  it,  let  me  relieve  my  page  with  a 
glimpse  of  rustic  character  of  another  sort.  It  is  one  of  the 
pleasant  memories  of  our  later  ramble  on  the  Rhine  that  writing 
of  this  incident  recalls.  A  simple  story,  but  illustrative  in  this 
connection  of  the  difference  which  the  traveler  commonly  finds 
between  the  English  and  the  German  poor  people. 

We  had  been  walking  for  some  miles,  late  in  a  dusky  evening, 
upon  a  hilly  road,  with  an  old  peasant  woman,  who  was  return- 
ing from  market,  carrying  a  heavy  basket  upon  her  head  and 
two  others  in  her  hands.  She  had  declined  to  let  us  assist  her 
in  carrying  them,  and  though  she  had  walked  seven  miles  in  the 
morning  and  now  nearly  that  again  at  night,  she  had  overtaken 
us,  and  was  going  on  at  a  pace  that  for  any  great  distance  we 
should  have  found  severe.  At  a  turn  of  the  road  we  saw  the 
figure  of  a  person  standing  still  upon  a  little  rising  ground  before 
us,  indistinct  in  the  dusk,  but  soon  evidently  a  young  woman.  It 
is  my  child,  said  the  woman,  hastily  setting  down  her  baskets 
and  running  forward,  so  that  they  met  and  embraced  each  other 
half  way  up  the  hill.  The  young  woman  then  came  down  to  us, 
and,  taking  the  great  basket  on  her  head,  the  two  trudged  on 
with  rapid  and  animated  conversation,  in  kind  tones  asking  and 
telling  of  their  experiences  of  the  day,  entirely  absorbed  with 
each  other,  and  apparently  forgetting  that  we  were  with  them, 
until,  a  mile  or  two  further  on,  we  came  near  the  village  in 
which  they  lived. 


BREAD  AND  TOBACCO.  273 

Our  guide  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  having  a  wife  and  seven 
children ;  neither  he  nor  any  of  his  family  (he  thought)  could 
read  or  write,  and,  except  with  regard  to  his  occupation  as  agri- 
cultural laborer,  I  scarcely  ever  saw  a  man  of  so  limited  informa- 
tion. He  could  tell  us,  for  instance,  almost  no  more  about  the 
church  which  adjoined  his  residence  than  if  he  had  never  seen  it 
— not  half  so  much  as  we  could  discover  for  ourselves  by  a  single 
glance  at  it.  He  had  nothing  to  say  about  the  clergyman  who 
officiated  in  it,  and  could  tell  us  nothing  about  the  parish,  except 
its  name,  and  that  it  allowed  him  and  five  other  laborers  to 
occupy  the  "almshouse"  we  had  seen,  rent  free.  He  couldn't 
say  how  old  he  was  (he  appeared  about  forty) ;  but  he  could  say, 
"  like  a  book,"  that  God  was  what  made  the  world,  and  that 
"  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  of  whom  he 
was  chief" —  of  the  truth  of  which  latter  clause  I  much  doubted, 
suspecting  the  arch  fiend  would  rank  higher,  among  his  servants, 
the  man  whose  idea  of  duty  and  impulse  of  love  had  been  satis- 
fied with  cramming  this  poor  soul  with  such  shells  of  spiritual 
nourishment.  He  thought  two  of  his  children  knew  the  cate- 
chism and  the  creed ;  did  not  think  they  could  have  learned  it 
from  a  book ;  they  might,  but  he  never  heard  them  read ;  when 
he  came  home  and  had  gotten  his  supper,  he  had  a  smoke  and 
then  went  to  bed.  His  wages  were  seven  shillings  —  sometimes 
had  been  eight — a-week.  None  of  his  children  earned  any  thing ; 
his  wife,  it  might  be,  did  somewhat  in  harvest-time.  But  take 
the  year  through,  one  dollar  and  sixty-eight  cents  a-week  was  all 
they  earned  to  support  themselves  and  their  large  family.  How 
could  they  live  ?  "  Why,  indeed,  it  was  hard,"  he  said ;  "  some- 
times, if  we'd  believe  him,  it  had  been  as  much  as  he  could  do 
to  keep  himself  in  tobacco ! "  He  mentioned  this  as  if  it  was  a 
vastly  more  memorable  hardship  than  that,  oft-times,  he  could  get 
nothing  more  than  dry  bread  for  his  family  to  eat.  It  was  a 
18 


274  AN  AMERKAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

common  thing  that  they  had  nothing  to  eat  but  dry  bread.  He 
got  the  flour — -fine,  white  wheaten  flour — from  the  master.  They 
kept  a  hog,  and  had  so  much  bacon  as  it  would  make  to  provide 
them  with  meat  for  the  year.  They  also  had  a  little  potato  patch, 
and  he  got  cheese  sometimes  from  the  master.  He  had  tea,  too, 
to  his  supper.  The  parish  gave  him  his  rent,  and  he  never  was 
called  upon  for  tithes,  taxes,  or  any  such  thing.  In  addition  to 
his  wages,  the  master  gave  him,  as  he  did  all  the  laborers,  three 
quarts  either  of  cider  or  beer  a-day,  sometimes  one  and  sometimes 
the  other.  He  liked  cider  best  —  thought  there  was  "more 
strength  to  it."  Harvest-time  they  got  six  quarts,  and  sometimes, 
when  the  work  was  very  hard,  he  had  had  ten  quarts. 

He  had  heard  of  America  and  Australia  as  countries  that  poor 
folks  went  to  —  he  did  not  well  know  why,  but  supposed  wages 
were  higher,  and  they  could  live  cheaper.  His  master  and  other 
gentlemen  had  told  him  about  those  places,  and  the  laboring 
people  talked  about  them  among  themselves.  They  had  talked 
to  him  about  going  there.  (America  and  Australia  were  all  one 
— two  names  for  the  same  place,  for  all  that  he  knew.)  He 
thought  his  master  or  the  parish  would  provide  him  the  means 
of  going,  if  he  wanted.  We  advised  him  to  emigrate  then,  by  all 
means,  not  so  much  for  himself  as  for  his  children ;  the  idea  of 
his  bringing  seven,  or  it  might  yet  be  a  dozen,  more  beings  into 
the  world  to  live  such  dumb-beast  lives,  was  horrible  to  us.  I 
told  him  that  in  America  his  children  could  go  to  school,  and 
learn  to  read  and  write  and  to  enjoy  the  revelation  of  God ;  and 
as  they  grew  up  they  would  improve  their  position,  and  might  be 
land-owners  and  farmers  themselves,  as  well  off  as  his  master;  and 
he  would  have  nothing  to  pay,  or  at  least  but  a  trifle  that  he  could 
gratefully  spare,  to  have  them  as  well  educated  as  the  master's  son 
was  being  here ;  that  where  I  came  from  the  farmers  would  be 
glad  to  give  a  man  like  him,  who  could  "  plow  and  sow  and  reap 


THE  PEASANTRY.  275 


and  mow  as  well  as  any  other  in  the  parish,"  eighteen  shillings 
a- week  — 

"And  how  much  beer?" 

"None  at  all!" 

"  None  at  all  ?  ha,  ha !  he'd  not  go  then — you'd  not  catch  him 
workin'  withouten  his  drink.  No,  no !  a  man  'ould  die  off  soon 
that  gait." 

It  was  in  vain  that  we  offered  fresh  meat  as  an  offset  to  the 
beer.  There  was  "  strength,"  he  admitted,  in  beef,  but  it  was 
wholly  incredible  that  a  man  could  work  on  it.  A  working-man 
must  have  zider  or  beer — there  was  no  use  to  argue  against  that. 
That  "  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,"  and 
that  "  work  without  beer  is  death,"  was  the  alpha  and  omega  of 
his  faith. 

The  laborers  in  this  part  of  England  (Hereford,  Monmouth, 
rloucester,  and  Wiltshire)  were  the  most  degraded,  poor,  stupid, 
3rutal,  and  licentious  that  we  saw  in  the  kingdom.  We  were  told 
that  they  were  of  the  purest  Saxon  blood,  as  was  indeed  indicated 
3y  the  frequency  of  blue  eyes  and  light  hair  among  them.  But  I 
did  not  see  in  Ireland,  or  in  Germany  or  in  France,  nor  did  I  ever 
see  among  our  negroes  or  Indians,  or  among  the  Chinese  or  Ma- 
lays, men  whose  tastes  were  such  mere  instincts,  or  whose  purpose 
of  life  and  whose  mode  of  life  was  so  low,  so  like  that  of  domes- 
tic animals  altogether,  as  these  farm-laborers. 

I  was  greatly  pained,  mortified,  ashamed  of  old  mother  Eng- 
land, in  acknowledging  this  ;  and  the  more  so  that  I  found  so  few 
Englishmen  who  realized  it,  or  who,  realizing  it,  seemed  to  feel 
that  any  one  but  God,  with  His  laws  of  population  and  trade,  was 
at  all  accountable  for  it.  Even  a  most  intelligent  and  distinguish- 
ed Radical,  when  I  alluded  to  this  element  as  a  part  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  country,  in  replying  to  certain  very  favorable  com- 
parisons he  had  been  making  of  England  with  other  countries, 


276  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

said  —  "  We  are  not  used  to  regard  that  class  in  forming  a  judg- 
ment of  national  character."  And  yet  I  suppose  that  class  is 
larger  in  numbers  than  any  other  in  the  community  of  England. 
Many  have  even  dared  to  think  that,  in  the  mysterious  decrees 
of  Providence,  this  balance  of  degradation  and  supine  misery  is 
essential  to  the  continuance  of  the  greatness,  prosperity,  and  ele- 
vated character  of  the  country — as  if  it  were  not  indeed  a  part 
of  the  country. 

A  minister  of  the  Gospel,  of  high  repute  in  London,  and  whose 
sermons  are  reprinted  and  often  repeated  in  America,  from  the 
words  of  Christ,  "  the  poor  ye  have  always  among  you,"  argued 
lately  that  all  legislation  or  cooperative  benevolence  that  had  the 
tendency  and  hope  of  bringing  about  such  a  state  of  things  that 
a  large  part  of  every  nation  should  be  independent  of  the  charity 
of  the  other  part,  was  heretical  and  blasphemous.  Closely  allied 
to  such  ideas  are  the  too  common  notions  of  rulers  and  subjects. 

In  America  we  hold  that  a  slave,  a  savage,  a  child,  a  maniac, 
and  a  condemned  criminal,  are  each  and  all  born — equally  with 
us,  with  our  President,  or  with  the  Queen  of  England,  free  and 
self-governing ;  that  they  have  the  same  natural  rights  with  us ; 
but  that  attached  to  those  natural  rights  were  certain  duties,  and 
when  we  find  them,  from  whatever  cause — no  matter  whether  the 
original  cause  be  with  them,  or  our  fathers,  or  us  —  unable  to 
perform  those  duties,  we  dispossess  them  of  their  rights :  we 
restrain,  we  confine,  we  master,  we  govern  them.  But  in 
taking  upon  ourselves  to  govern  them,  we  take  other  duties,  and 
our  first  duty  is  that  which  is  the  first  duty  of  every  man  for 
himself — improvement,  restoration,  regeneration.  By  every  con- 
sideration of  justice,  by  every  noble  instinct,  we  are  bound  to 
make  it  our  highest  and  chiefest  object  to  restore  them,  not  the 
liberty  first,  but  the  capacity  for  the  liberty — for  exercising  the 
duties  of  the  liberty — which  is  their  natural  right.  And  so  much 


GOVERNMENT.  277 


of  the  liberty  as  they  are  able  to  use  to  their  own  as  well  as  our 
advantage,  we  are  bound  constantly  to  allow  them  —  nay,  more 
than  they  show  absolute  evidence  of  their  ability  to  use  to  ad- 
vantage. We  must  not  wait  till  a  child  can  walk  alone  before 
we  put  it  on  its  legs ;  we  must  not  wait  till  it  can  swim  before  we 
let  it  go  in  the  water.  As  faith  is  necessary  to  self-improvement, 
trust  is  necessary  to  education  or  restoration  of  another :  as  neces- 
sary with  the  slave,  the  savage,  the  maniac,  the  criminal,  and  the 
peasant- — as  necessary,  and  equally  with  all  necessary — as  with 
the  child. 

Is  not  this  our  American  doctrine  in  its  only  consistent  exten- 
sion ?  We  govern  in  trust  only  for  another,  and  a  part  of  our 
trust  is  the  restoration  of  the  rightful  owner,  by  helping  him  to- 
wards that  sound  and  well-informed  mind  and  intelligent  judgment 
that  makes  him  truly  free  and  independent.  This  is  the  only 
government  that  we  of  the  free  United  States  of  America,  whether 
as  fathers  or  children,  statesmen  or  jurymen,  representatives  or 
rabble,  either  claim  or  acknowledge.  And  it  is  of  this  that  all  true 
Americans  believe  —  "  that  is  the  best  government  that  governs 
the  least."  Using  government  in  its  properly  restricted  sense,  as 
the  authority  and  forcible  direction  of  one  over  another,  we  hold 
this  to  be  as  self-evident  as  that  the  life  of  free  love  is  better  than 
the  life  of  constrained  legality,  that  the  sentiment  of  mutual  trust 
is  nobler  than  that  of  suspicion  or  of  fear,  that  the  new  dispensa- 
tion of  Christ  is  higher  than  the  old  one  of  Moses.  What  else 
there  is,  than  this  care  over  the  weak  and  diseased  in  the  public 
administration  of  our  affairs,  is  no  more  than  associated  labor  — 
the  employment  of  certain  common  servants  for  the  care  of  the 
commonwealth. 

Education,  then,  with  certain  systematic  exercise  or  discipline 
of  the  governed,  having  reference  to  and  connected  with  a  gradual 
elevation  to  equal  freedom  with  the  governing,  we  hold  to  be  a 


\ 
278  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

very  necessary  part  of  all  rightful  government.  Where  it  is  not, 
we  say  this  is  no  true  and  rightful  government 

But  we  shall  be  at  once  asked,  Is  your  fugitive  law  designed 
for  such  purposes  ?  Do  your  slaveholders  govern  the  simple- 
minded  Africans,  whom  they  keep  in  restraint  on  these  principles  ? 

So  far  as  they  do  not,  their  claim  is  "  heretical  and  blasphe- 
mous." 

Let  us  never  hesitate  to  acknowledge  it — any  where  and  every 
where  to  acknowledge  it  —  and  before  all  people  mourn  over  it. 
Let  us,  who  need  not  to  bear  the  heavy  burden  and  live  in  the 
dark  cloud  of  this  responsibility,  never,  either  in  brotherly  love, 
national  vanity,  or  subjection  to  insolence,  fear  to  declare  that,  in 
the  misdirection  of  power  by  our  slaveholders,  they  are  false  to 
the  basis  of  our  Union  and  blasphemous  to  the  Father,  who, 
equally  and  with  equal  freedom,  created  all  men.  Would  that 
they  might  see,  too,  that  while  they  continue  to  manifest  before 
the  world,  in  their  legislation  upon  it,  no  other  than  mean,  sordid, 
short-sighted,  and  barbarian  purposes,  they  must  complain,  threat- 
en, expostulate,  and  compromise  in  vain.  If  we  drive  back  the 
truth  of  God,  we  must  expect  ever-recurring,  irrestrainable,  irre- 
sistible reaction.  The  law  of  God  in  our  hearts  binds  us  in 
fidelity  to  the  principles  of  the  Constitution.  They  are  not  to  be 
found  in  "Abolitionism,"  nor  are  they  to  be  found — remember  it, 
brothers,  and  forgive  these  few  words  —  in  hopeless,  dawnless, 
unredeeming  slavery. 

And  so  we  hold  that  party  in  England,  who  regard  their  labor- 
ing class  as  a  permanent  providential  institution,  not  to  be  im- 
proved in  every  way,  educated,  fitted  to  take  an  equal  share  with 
all  Englishmen  in  the  government  of  the  commonwealth  of  Eng- 
land, to  be  tyrants,  and  insolent  rebels  to  humanity.  (Many  of 
them  as  good-souled  men  as  the  world  contains,  nevertheless.) 

I  have  before  said,  and  I  repeat  it  with  confidence,  that  I 


FOOD  AND  DRINK.  279 


believe  this  party  to  be  the  weaker  one  in  England.  I  believe 
that  the  love  of  justice,  freedom,  and  consistency,  is  stronger  with 
Englishmen  than  the  bonds  of  custom,  self-conceit,  and  blind 
idolatry  of  human  arrangement,  under  however  sacred  names  it 
has  come  to  them. 

But  our  British  friends  will  ask,  Would  it  be  practicable  to 
give  these  poor  toiling  semi-brutes  any — the  smallest — exercise 
of  that  governmental  power,  which,  so  far  as  they  be  not  wholly 
brutes  is  their  right  ?  Yes,  we  American  farmers  would  judge : 
yes,  there  are  offices  to  be  performed  for  the  commonwealth  of 
each  parish  or  neighborhood,  of  the  requirements  of  which  they 
are,  or  soon  would  make  themselves,  fit  judges.  If  there  are  not, 
then  make  such  offices.  Who  is  a  kind,  firm,  and  closely-scruti- 
nizing master ;  who  is  a  judicious  and  successful  farmer ;  who  is 
an  honest  dealer  with  them ;  who  is  a  skillful  plowman,  a  good 
thatcher,  a  good  hedge-trimmer,  in  the  mile  or  two  about  them, 
they  always  have  formed  a  judgment. 

With  regard  to  the  habits  of  drinking,  and  the  customary  diet 
of  those  by  whose  labor  England  is  mainly  supplied  with  food,  I 
fear  my  statements  may  be  incredible  to  Americans  ;  I  therefore 
quote  from  authority  that  should  be  better  informed. 

A  correspondent  of  the  Agricultural  Gazette  mentions  that,  in 
Herefordshire  and  Worcestershire,  the  allowance  of  cider  given 
to  laborers,  in  addition  to  wages,  is  "  one  to  ten  gallons  a-day." 
He  observes  that,  of  course,  men  can  not  work  without  some 
drink,  but  that  they  often  drink  more  than  is  probably  of  any 
advantage  to  them,  and  suggests  that  an  allowance  of  money  be 
given  instead  of  cider,  and  the  laborers  be  made  to  buy  their 
drink.  In  this  way,  he  thinks,  they  would  not  be  likely  to  drink 
more  than  they  needed,  and  it  would  be  an  economical  operation 
for  both  parties.  In  Normandy,  the  cider  district  of  France, 
three  gallons  a-day  is  the  usual  allowance  of  laborers. 


280  *  .-l.V  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

i 
"  The  usual  allowance  given  in  Herefordshire  by  masters,  is  three  quarts 

a-day  ;  and  in  harvest-time  many  laborers  drink  in  a  day  ten  or  twelve 
quarts  of  a  liquor  that,  in  a  stranger's  mouth,  would  be  mistaken  for  vine- 
gar."— Johnson  and  Errington  on  the  Apple. 

"  Bacon,  when  they  can  get  it,  is  the  staff  of  the  laborers'  dinner."  "  The 
frugal  housewife  provides  a  large  lot  of  potatoes,  and  while  she  indulges 
herself  with  her  younger  ones  only  with  salt,  cuts  off  the  small  rasher  and 
toasts  it  over  the  plates  of  the  father  and  elder  sons,  as  being  the  bread- 
winners; and  this  is  all  they  want" — "A  Rector  and  Conservative"  in  the  Times. 

"  After  doing  up  his  horses  he  takes  breakfast,  which  is  made  of  flour, 
with  a  little  butter,  and  water  '  from  the  tea-kettle '  poured  over  it.  He 
takes  with  him  to  the  field  a  piece  of  bread  and  (if  he  has  not  a  young 
family  and  can  afford  it)  cheese,  to  eat  at  midday.  He  returns  home  in  the 
afternoon  to  a  few  potatoes,  and  possibly  a  little  bacon,  though  only  those 
who  are  better  off  can  afford  this.  The  supper  very  often  consists  of  bread 
and  water."— "The  Times  Commissioner,"  in  Wiltshire,  1851. 

It  would  be  unjust  not  to  add,  that  in  a  large  part  of  England 
the  laborers  are  much  more  comfortable  than  these  statements 
might  indicate.  I  am  also  convinced  that  the  condition  of  the 
laborer  generally  is  improving,  and  that  he  is  now  in  a  much 
better  condition  than  ten  years  ago.  The  main  stay  of  the  labor- 
er's stomach  is  fine,  white  wheaten  bread,  of  the  best  possible 
quality,  such  as  it  would  be  a  luxury  to  get  any  where  else  in 
the  world,  and  such  as  many  a  New  England  farmer  never  tasted, 
and,  even  if  his  wife  were  able  to  make  it,  would  think  an  ex- 
travagance to  be  ordinarily  upon  his  table.  No  doubt  a  coarser 
bread  would  be  more  wholesome,  but  it  is  one  of  the  strongest 
prejudices  of  the  English  peasant,  that  brown  bread  is  not  fit  for 
human  beings.  In  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and  in  some  hilly  dis- 
tricts of  England,  only,  wheat  bread  is  displaced  by  more  whole- 
some and  economical  preparations  of  oatmeal. 

AVith  regard  to  fresh  meat,  a  farmer  once  said  to  me,  "They 
will  hardly  taste  it  all  their  lives,  except,  it  may  be,  once  a  year, 


FRESH  MEAT.  281 


at  a  fair,  when  they'll  go  to  the  cook-shops  and  stuff  themselves 
with  all  they'll  hold  of  it ;  and  if  you  could  see  them,  you'd  say 
they  did  not  know  what  it  was  or  what  was  to  be  done  with  it — 
cutting  it  into  great  mouthfuls  and  gobbling  it  down  without  any 
chewing,  like  as  a  fowl  does  barleycorns,  till  it  chokes  him." 


282  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XLL 

Tintern  Abbey  and  the  Wye  —  English  Screw  Steamers  —  Tide  Deluge  — 
St.  Vincent's  Rocks  —  Bristol-Built  Vessels  — The  Vale  of  Gloucester  — 
Whitfield  " Example  Farm" — Hedge-Row  Timber  —  Drainage  —  Build- 
ings—  Stock  —  Soiling  —  Manure  —  Wheat  —  Beets  and  Turnips  — Dis- 
graceful Agriculture  —  The  Landed  Gentry  —  Wages  of  Laborers. 

Chepstow. 

TI7E  have  had  a  fierce  storm  of  wind  and  rain  to-day,  notwith- 
standing which  we  have  "done"  (I  am  sorry  to  use  the 
word)  Tintern  Abbey  and  the  celebrated  scenery  of  the  Wye. 

The  first  every  body  has  heard  of,  and  many  have  dined  off  it ; 
for  it  is  the  subject  of  a  common  crockery  picture.  It  is  "a  grand 
exhibition  of  Gothic  ruins,  admittance  twenty-five  cents ;  child- 
ren half-price."  It  is  indeed  exceedingly  beautiful  and  interest- 
ing, and  would  be  delightful  to  visit,  if  one  could  stumble  into  it 
alone  and  contemplate  it  in  silence ;  but  to  hare  a  vulgar,  syco- 
phantic, chattering  showman,  locking  himself  in  with  you,  fast- 
ening himself  to  your  elbow,  holding  an  umbrella  over  you,  and 
insisting  exactly  when,  where,  what  and  how  much  you  shall  ad- 
mire— there  was  more  poetry  on  the  dinner-plate. 

The  scenery  of  the  Wye  has,  at  some  points,  much  grandeur. 
They  say  there  is  nothing  else  like  it  in  England.  There  is  much 
with  the  same  character,  however,  in  America ;  and  as  we  were 


BRISTOL  BUILT.  283 


familiar  with  scenes  of  greater  sublimity,  we  found  that  we  had 
been  led  to  expect  too  much,  and  were  rather  disappointed 
with  it. 

We  took  passage  from  Chepstow  to  Bristol  in  a  small  iron 
screw-steamer.  She  was  sharp  and  neatly  modeled,  and  made 
very  good  speed — about  fifteen  knots.  The  captain  said  he 
could  show  his  stern  to  any  side- wheel  steamer  of  her  size  in 
England.  Near  the  junction  of  the  Wye  and  the  Severn  there 
is  a  good  breadth  of  water,  and  we  found  here  a  heavy  swell  and 
a  reefing  breeze.  The  little  boat,  with  a  small  gaff-sail  forward, 
"just  to  steady  her,"  threw  it  off  one  side  and  the  other,  and 
made  her  way  along  handsomely  and  comfortably.  It  is  my  im- 
pression, that  the  English  are  a  good  deal  ahead  of  us  with  screw- 
craft. 

The  tide-current  in  these  rivers  is  a  furious  torrent.  The  rise 
and  fall  at  Chepstow  is  fifty-three  feet !  (Daniel's  Shipmaster's 
Directory.)  At  Bristol,  I  think  it  is  even  greater  than  this. 
The  striking  effects  upon  the  banks,  and  the  difficulty  of  naviga- 
tion, may  be  imagined.  Hence  it  is  that  Bristol  ships  have 
always  been  noted  for  strength,  and  so  arose  the  term  u  Bristol- 
built,"  to  describe  any  structure  well  put  together. 

St.  Vincent's  rocks,  of  which  I  had  often  heard  sailors  speak 
— immense  banks  of  solid  rock,  that,  for  some  miles  below  Bris- 
tol, the  narrow,  canal-like  river  flows  between — are  indeed  very 
grand.  It  was  most  impressive  to  meet  between  them  a  mer- 
chant ship  of  the  largest  class — the  tiny  boy  that  we  looked  up- 
right to  see  upon  her  royal  yard  not  high  enough  by  some  hun- 
dred feet  to  look  over  them.  And  yet  so  perpendicular  are  they, 
and  so  narrow  is  the  stream,  that  they  are  preparing  to  throw  an 
arch  over  between  them. 

Passing  with  too  little  delay  through  the  interesting  towns  of 
Clifton  and  Bristol,  I  parted  with  my  friends,  and  went  on  the 


284  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

same  day  into  the  agricultural  region  known  as  the  Yale  of 
Gloucester. 

The  general  aspect  of  this  district  is  exceedingly  beautiful ; 
undulating,  like  Herefordshire,  with  more  frequent  extensive  flat 
surfaces,  very  large  hedges,  and  much  timber ;  thickly  peopled, 
the  cottages  and  farm  buildings  old  and  picturesque,  and  the 
fields  well  stocked  with  cattle. 

The  agriculture  of  the  district  is  similar  to  that  of  Cheshire, 
except  that  it  is  in  general  much  behind  it,  neither  draining  nor 
boneing  having  been  common  improvements.  The  people  I  fell 
in  with  were  usually  lacking  equally  in  courtesy  and  intelligence, 
and  I  learned  nothing  of  value  agriculturally,  until  I  reached,  at 
near  nightfall,  a  farm  conducted  agreeably  to  the  wishes  of  one 
of  the  landlords  of  the  Vale,  especially  with  the  intention  of  giv- 
ing his  tenants  an  example  of  a  better  system  of  farming  than 
they  were  accustomed  to  be  content  with. 

For  this  purpose,  an  ordinary  farm  of  260  acres,  in  the  midst 
of  the  estate,  was,  about  ten  years  ago,  put  into  the  hands  of  an 
excellent  Scotch  Agriculturist,  Mr.  Morton.  His  first  movement 
was  to  remove  the  superfluous  fences  and  the  enormous  quantity 
of  hedge-row  timber  that  the  farm,  like  all  others  in  the  district, 
was  encumbered  with.  It  gives  us  a  great  idea  of  the  amount  of 
this,  as  well  of  the  value  of  timber  in  England,  to  learn  that 
what  was  thus  obtained  merely  from  the  fences  of  260  acres  was 
sold  for  over  $17,000  !  There  is  now  very  little,  if  any,  interior 
fencing  upon  the  farm.  The  surface-water  was  drawn  into  one 
channel,  and  the  whole  farm  under-drained  with  three-feet  drains. 
Upon  the  steeper  slopes  the  drains  were  laid  with  small  stones, 
otherwise  with  tile.  This  was  the  only  case  in  which  I  heard  of 
stones  being  used  by  any  good  farmer  of  late  years  in  England 
for  drains.  Even  where  stone  is  in  the  way  upon  the  surface,  it 
is  found  more  economical  to  employ  tile  or  pipes.  After  thor- 


«  THE  EXAMPLE  FARM:1  285 

ough  drainage,  every  acre  of  the  farm  was  subsoiled,  and  gradu- 
ally the  whole  was  limed,  at  the  rate  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
bushels  an  acre,  and  divided  into  ten-acre  lots,  without  fences. 

Not  the  least  unpractical  labor  or  expense  for  show  has  been 
made.  The  walls,  gates,  farm-house,  stables  and  outbuildings, 
are  all  of  simple,  even  rude  construction.  As  far  as  I  could 
judge,  every  arrangement  and  every  practice  upon  the  farm  was 
such  as  would  commend  itself  to  any  farmer,  and  might  be  easily 
followed  by  any  one  who  could  command  the  capital  which  a 
similar  extent  of  soil  would  seem  to  need  for  its  profitable  culti- 
vation. Almost  every  inch  of  the  surface  outside  the  buildings 
and  the  lane  is  tilled,  there  being  no  pasture.  In  the  stables  we 
found  a  stock  of  mongrel  cows,  mostly  of  Hereford  and  Short- 
horn blood,  bought  to  be  fattened.  No  stock  is  raised.  Each 
cow  was  in  a  separate  loose  box.  They  are  fed  at  this  season 
with  clover  and  trefoil,  and  supplied  with  a  great  profusion  of 
straw  litter.  The  manure  is  allowed  to  accumulate  under  them 
until  it  becomes  inconvenient.  The  cows  appeared  to  be  in 
healthy  and  thriving  condition ;  they  were  generally  lying  down 
and  quietly  ruminating  with  an  aspect  of  entire  satisfaction. 
The  horse-stalls  were  of  a  form  and  size  most  common  in  our 
cities;  the  horses  rather  lighter  than  the  ordinary  English 
draught-horses.  A  steam-engine  is  employed  for  threshing,  cut- 
ting turnips,  etc.  All  the  crops  but  wheat,  are  fed  upon  the 
farm,  and  all  the  straw  is  used  as  litter ;  of  course  an  immense 
stock  of  manure  is  manufactured,  and  little  or  none  needs  to  be 
bought  to  sustain  a  high  fertility  and  large  crops  of  every  kind. 

Under  this  system,  Mr.  Morton  is  able  to  grow  wheat  every 
second  year ;  so  that  one-half  the  farm  was  covered  with  magnif- 
icent crops  of  this  grain,  likely  to  yield  full  forty  bushels  an  acre, 
which  would  be  worth  at  least  $6,000.  The  wheat  is  all  drilled, 
and  looked  to  me  particularly  clean  and  even.  The  alternate 


286  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

crops  are  carrots,  mangel-wurzel,  ruta-baga,  potatoes  and  clover. 
Of  the  latter,  forty  acres ;  of  the  roots,  mangel-wurzel  occupied 
the  largest  space.  Mr.  Morton  told  me  that  he  had,  of  late, 
much  preferred  it  to  turnips ;  thought  he  could  get  thirty  tons 
from  an  acre  that  would  only  yield  twenty  of  ruta-baga,  with 
similar  expense.  A  few  acres  were  devoted  to  vegetables  and 
fruit  for  the  family,  and  to  the  raising  of  seeds  for  the  root-crops. 
I  do  not  recollect  to  have  seen  a  weed  on  the  farm,  except  among 
the  potatoes,  which  were  being  hoed  by  laborers,  with  very  large 
hoes  made  for  the  purpose. 

Of  course  the  expense  of  such  improvement  as  I  have  de- 
scribed was  very  great ;  but  the  proprietor  considers  it  to  have 
been  a  good  investment.  It  is  now  leased  by  Mr.  Morton  and 
his  son. 

It  is  called  "Example  Farm;"  how  appropriately,  may  be 
judged  by  the  following  description  of  an  ordinary  farm  of  the 
county,  by  the  "Times'  Commissioner:"  * 

"  An  inconvenient  road  conducted  us  to  the  entrance-gate  of  a  dilapidated 
farm-yard,  one  side  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  huge  barn  and  wagon-shed, 
and  the  other  by  the  farm-house,  dairy  and  piggeries.  The  farm-yard  was 
divided  by  a  wall,  and  two  lots  of  milch-cows  were  accommodated  in  the 
separate  divisions.  On  one  side  was  a  temporary  shed,  covered  with  bushes 
and  straw.  Beneath  this  shed  there  was  a  comparatively  dry  lair  for  the 
stock  ;  the  yard  itself  was  wet,  dirty  and  uncomfortable.  The  other  yard 
was  exactly  the  counterpart  of  this,  except  that  it  wanted  even  the  shelter- 
shed.  In  these  two  yards  are  confined  the  dairy-stock  of  the  farm  during 
the  winter  months ;  they  are  supplied  with  hay  in  antique,  square  hay- 
racks, ingeniously  capped  over,  to  protect  the  hay,  with  a  thatched  roof, 
very  much  resembling  the  pictures  of  Robinson  Crusoe's  hut.  In  each  yard 
two  of  them  are  placed,  round  which  the  shivering  animals  station  them- 
selves as  soon  as  the  feeder  gives  them  their  diurnal  ration,  and  then  pa- 
tiently ruminate  the  scanty  contents.  A  dripping  rain  fell  as  we  looked  at 

*  Mr.  Caird,  a  special  traveling  correspondent  upon  agriculture,  of  the  Times. 


LANDLORDS.  287 


them,  from  which  their  heads  were  sheltered  by  the  thatched  roof  of  the 
hay-rack,  only  to  have  it  poured  in  a  heavier  stream  on  their  necks  and 
shoulders.  In  the  other  yard  the  cows  had  finished  their  provender,  and 
showed  their  dissatisfaction  with  its  meagre  character  by  butting  each  other 
round  the  rack.  The  largest  and  greediest  having  finished  her  own  share, 
immediately  dislodges  her  neighbor,  while  she,  in  her  turn,  repeats  the 
blow  upon  the  next,  and  so  the  chase  begins,  the  cows  digging  their  horns 
into  each  other's  sides,  and  discontentedly  pursuing  one  another  through 
the  wet  and  miry  yard.  Leaving  the  yard  we  passed  into  the  fields,  sink- 
ing at  every  step  in  the  sour,  wet  grass-lands.  Here,  little  heaps  of  dung, 
the  exhausted  relics  of  the  hay,  from  which  the  cows  derive  their  only  sup- 
port in  winter,  were  being  scattered  thinly  over  the  ground,  to  aid  in  the 
production  of  another  crop  of  hay." 

I  have  shown  how  much  good  a  wealthy  landlord  may  find 
it  his  profit  to  do  in  the  way  of  improving  agriculture.  Mr. 
Caird  intimates  that  for  such  a  state  of  things  as  is  exhibited  in 
the  last  picture,  we  are  also  to  hold  the  landlord  accountable. 
Mr.  Caird  likewise  says,  "  On  all  hands  the  farmer  suffers :  he 
pays  rent  for  space  occupied  by  his  landlord's  trees ;  he  provides 
harbor  for  his  landlord's  game,  which,  in  return,  feed  upon  his 
crops ;  [it  is  for  this  reason  many  landlords  will  not  allow  the 
fences  to  be  touched ;]  if  he  attempts  to  plough  out  inferior  pas- 
ture, his  crop  becomes  an  additional  feeding-ground  for  the  game ; 
whilst  the  small  fields  and  crooked  fences  prevent  all  efforts  at 
economy  of  labor,  and  compel  him  either  to  restrict  his  cultiva- 
tion, or  execute  it  negligently  and  unprofitably." 

God  keep  us  evermore  free  from  a  "powerful  conservative 
landed  gentry,"  a  curse  not  unmixed  with  good  though  it  be. 

Wages  of  laborers  were  mentioned  to  me  at  85.  Caird  says 
7s.  and  85.,  and  sometimes  65. ;  but  it  was  added,  significantly, 
that  6s.  worth  of  work  is  only  given  in  such  a  case. 


288  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XLn. 

Bath  —  Warminster — Surly  Postmaster  —  A  Doubtful  Character  —  Polite 
Innkeeper  and  Pretty  Chambermaid  —  The  Tap-Room  fire-side  —  Rustic 
Civility  —  Rainy  Morning  in  a  Country  Inn  —  Coming  to  Market  —  The 
Road  in  a  Storm  —  Scudding. 

TT  was  raining  hard  when  I  again  reached  Bristol,  and  I  at 
•*•  once  jumped  on  board  a  train  ready  to  leave  for  Bath.  Here 
I  found  that  my  friends  had  walked  on,  and  after  looking  at  the 
"pump-room"  and  a  grimy  old  cathedral,  and  getting  a  dinner,  I 
determined  to  follow  them.  There  was  no  public  conveyance 
that  evening,  and  I  started  on  foot,  thinking  to  overtake  them  at 
Warminster. 

At  the  top  of  a  high  hill  I  stopped  under  a  tree  during  a  tem- 
porary torrent  of  rain,  and  looked  back  at  what  I  could  not  help 
thinking  would  be  a  grand  view  if  there  were  but  a  gleam  of 
sunshine  upon  it ;  perhaps  it  was  grander  by  help  of  the  imagin- 
ation in  the  obscurity  of  the  rain  and  drifting  scud  and  murky 
cloud  of  smoke  that  was  swept  fragrant  towards  me  from  the  city. 
Bath  is  situated  among  and  up  the  sides  of  extensive  hills,  and 
the  country  about  it  is  much  of  it  well  wooded  and  studded  with 
numerous  villas.  The  town  is  remarkably  well  built,  with  nu- 
merous stately  terrace-houses,  of  the  same  fine,  soft-tinted  sand- 
stone (Bath-stone)  that  I  described  at  Liverpool.  It  is  a  famous 


THE  WARMINSTER  ROAD.  289 

old  watering-place,  you  know;  "a  mort  of  merry-making"  there 
has  been  in  it  in  days  past,  but  now,  though  by  no  means  a  de- 
cayed town,  I  believe  its  glory  in  this  respect  has  departed.  I 
should  judge  it  still  to  be  a  place  of  great  wealth  and  elegance, 
but  less  distinguished  for  gayety  and  folly  than  formerly.  All  I 
can  say  of  the  inhabitants  really,  from  personal  observation,  is, 
that  they  "know  enough  to  stay  in  when  it  rains,"  for  I  hardly 
saw  one  in  the  streets,  except  the  men  who  were  waiting  by  the 
little  covered  "chairs,"  such  as  Mrs.  Skewton  is  represented  by 
Cruikshanks  to  be  wheeled  about  in  by  her  lanky  page.  I  saw 
hundreds  of  these,  ranged  in  the  streets  as  hackney-coaches  are 
in  our  towns,  but  no  carriage  of  any  kind,  public  or  private ;  per- 
haps the  Bath  coachmen  had  again  "met  to  a  cold  swarry." 

After  a  walk  of  two  miles  into  the  country,  I  found  I  had  been 
misdirected,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  in  finding  the  right 
road.  I  once  asked  the  way  of  two  laborers,  and  their  replies 
were  in  such  language,  and  they  were  so  stupid,  that  I  could  not 
get  the  least  idea  of  what  they  meant.  My  guess  was,  that  they 
either  could  not  understand  what  I  wanted,  or  that  they  did  not 
know  themselves  whether  or  not  it  was  the  Warminster  road  that 
they  were  at  work  upon.  It  was  after  four  o'clock  when  I  at 
length  got  upon  the  straight  road,  with  seventeen  miles  before  me 
— a  hilly  road,  with  a  thin,  slimy  chalk-mud  under  foot.  I 
stopped  once  again  during  another  tremendous  torrent,  taking  the 
opportunity  to  bait  at  a  neat  little  inn,  and  reached  Warminster, 
after  a  hard  pull,  at  nine  o'clock.  The  'first  building  in  the  town, 
as  you  come  from  Bath,  is  a  fine  old  church,  going  round  the 
yard  of  which  you  enter  abruptly  upon  a  close-built  street  of  old 
thatched  two-story  houses. 

The  postmaster  had  no  letters  for  me,  and  seemed  to  be  very 
angry  that  I  should  have  expected  him  to  have.  I  looked  from 
one  inn  to  another,  not  finding  my  friends,  and  finally,  muddy, 
19 


290  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

wet,  and  tired  enough,  stopped  at  what  seemed  the  last  in  the 
street,  a  house  of  humble  appearance. 

I  desired  to  be  showed  to  my  room.  Master,  mistress,  maid, 
and  Boots  immediately  surrounded  and  eyed  me  closely,  and  I 
could  not  but  remember  that  I  might,  probably,  bear  a  suspicious 
appearance  to  them.  As  I  take  off  my  cape,  maid — a  nice,  kind- 
looking,  black-eyed  little  girl — catches  it  up,  and  runs  off  to  hang 
it  by  the  kitchen  fire  (an  absurd  operation,  as  it  is  made  of  oiled 
silk) ;  she  is  back  in  a  moment  with  a  light,  and,  lifting  my  knap- 
sack, shows  me  up  to  a  pleasant  room,  with  a  deep,  dark-curtained 
bed — slides  out,  and  is  again  back  in  a  moment  with  slippers,  and 
asks  to  take  my  shoes  to  be  dried,  and  what  would  I  wish  for 
supper?  I  decline  supper,  and  intend  to  go  to  bed  at  once. 
Down  she  goes,  and,  after  a  moment  more,  in  pops  the  landlord. 
"  Was  you  understood  aright,  sir  ? — no  supper,  sir  ? — not  coming 
down,  sir  ? — going  to  bed,  sir  ? — directly,  sir,  without  supper,  sir  ?  " 
and  while  saying  this,  he  bustles  about  the  room,  locks  the  closet 
doors,  puts  the  keys  in  his  pocket,  and  then  turns  towards  me 
with  a  suspicious  look  at  my  knapsack.  "  Yes,"  I  answer,  quiet- 
ly; and,  drawing  out  shirt,  socks,  and  tooth-brush,  "I  took 
supper  upon  the  road,  and  I  thought  I  had  best  get  my  clothes 
off,  and  at  once  to  bed."  "Ah!  I  see,  sir;  quite  right,  sir;  ah! 
yes,  sir ;  dry  stockings  too,  sir ;  yes,  sir ;  indeed,  sir,  I  was  not 
aware ;  beg  pardon,  sir :  but,  indeed,  would  you  step  down  stairs 
a  moment,  sir — fine  fire  in  the  tap,  sir — dry  yourself,  if  you  would 
please,  for  a  moment,  I  would  have  the  room  put  in  better  order 
for  you,  sir ;  indeed,  the  bed  is  hardly — if  you  would,  sir — thank 
you,  sir." 

In  the  tap-room  were  three  fellows  with  smock-frocks.  As  I 
approached,  one  called  to  another,  who  was  nearer  the  fire,  to 
give  me  his  seat,  and  offered  me,  with  truly  rustic  grace,  his  half- 
emptied  pot  of  beer.  I  dislike  to  repulse  what  is  meant  for 


RUSTICS.  291 


kindness ;  so  I  tasted  it,  and  tried  to  enter  into  conversation  with 
them.  I  soon  found  it  was  impossible ;  for  I  could  make  nothing 
of  two-thirds  of  their  replies,  and  I  doubted  if  they  could  under- 
stand me  much  better.  So  I  contented  myself  with  listening, 
while  they  continued  to  talk  or  mumble  with  each  other.  The 
subjects  of  their  conversation  were  beer  and  "the  girls:"  of  the 
latter  topic  they  said  nothing  to  be  repeated ;  of  the  former,  they 
wished  the  farmers  never  gave  worse  drink  than  that  they  were 
now  enjoying  —  "  it  was  most  good  for  nothing,  some  of  it,  what 
they  gave  out/'  And  one  told  how  he  had  had  to  drink  so  much 
of  it  once,  it  had  made  him  clear  sick ;  and  then  another  told 
how,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  made  himself  sick  one  day,  when 
somebody  wouldn't  give  him  as  much  beer  as  he  wanted,  by 
taking  a  draught  of  cold  water. 

When  the  little  maid  came  in  to  say  that  my  bed  was  now 
"  quite  ready,"  and  I  rose  to  withdraw  from  the  circle,  they  all 
gave  a  singular  jerk  forward  of  their  heads  and  touched  their 
foreheads  with  their  right  hand,  as  a  parting  salutation. 

"  Would  you  let  me  take  something  else  down  to  be  dried  now, 
sir,  your  coat,  sir,  or  any  thing  —  the  socks,  sir ;  thank  you,  sir. 
Hope  you'll  sleep  well,  sir." 

Well,  I  did  sleep.  It  was  nine  in  the  morning  when  I  awoke, 
and  there  was  a  steady  roar  upon  the  tiles  —  the  rain  still  con- 
tinued. I  drew  the  window-curtain,  and  there  was  Geoffrey 
Crayon's  picture  almost  to  the  life :  a  sleepy  old  gray  mare 
"  letting  it  rain ;"  a  draggle-tailed  cock  on  a  smoking  dunghill, 
eyeing  with  the  air  of  a  miserable  sick  saint  the  riotous  orgies  of 
a  company  of  mad  ducks,  deep  in  their  favorite  liquor ;  half  a 
dozen  doves  huddled  moping  together  on  the  thatch  of  the  stable 
— a  sombre  tone  over  every  thing,  and  rain,  rain,  rain. 

"  Hope  you  rested  well,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  as  I  reached  the 
foot  of  the  crooked  stairs ;  "  a  dirty  day,  sir.  Have  your  shoes, 


292  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

sir  ?  What'll  you  please  to  have  for  breakfast,  sir  ?  Steak,  sir  ? 
O  yes,  sir  —  or  chop,  sir ;  give  you  very  nice  chop,  sir ;  yes,  sir, 
thank  you,  sir.  Walk  in  here,  sir  ?  Ready  shortly,  sir." 

To  get  to  the  breakfast  I  was  led  through  the  kitchen,  a  large 
room  with  saddles  and  box-coats  and  whips  and  straps  hung  up 
with  the  bacon  on  the  ceiling  and  walls.  The  breakfast-room 
(dining-room)  was  much  larger  than  any  room  you  would  have 
supposed,  from  the  front  of  the  house,  it  was  likely  to  contain. 
Its  plan  was  octagonal,  with  a  single  great  red- curtained  bow- 
window  and  stately,  high-backed  chairs,  suggesting  a  corporation 
banquet. 

"  Going  on,  sir  —  yes,  sir."  All  my  things  are  brought,  dry 
and  warm,  and  nicely  folded ;  and  now  I  have  curiosity  to  know 
what  value  is  placed  upon  so  much  suavity.  The  landlord  meets 
my  request  with  deprecating  gesture  and  grimace,  as  if  it  was  a 
pity  that  the  custom  of  society  made  such  a  form  necessary  be- 
tween a  host  and  his  guest — as  if  he  were  about  to  say,  "  I  am 
grieved  that  you  should  mention  it ;  really,  it  is  I  that  am  in- 
debted to  you  for  this  honor ;  but  if  you  insist,  why" — ending  the 
aside,  but  still  low,  hurried,  and  indistinct  — "  sixpence  for  bed 
and  a  shilling  for  breakfast,  and  (shall  I  say  thre'pence  ?)  for 
Boots,  sir."  "  Yes,  and  the  rest  to  that  excellent  little  chamber- 
maid, if  you  please."  "  Oh,  my  little  girl,  sir ;  oh,  thank  ye,  sir, 
you  are  very  good,  sir — yes,  sir,  you  can't  miss  it,  sir ;  straight 
road  after  you  pass  the  gate,  sir.  Good-morning,  sir ;  should  be 
glad  to  see  you  if  you  are  this  way  again,  sir,  or  any  of  your 
friends.  Good-morning,  sir.  Hope  you'll  have  a  fine  day  yet,  sir! 
It's  slacking  up  e'en  now,  I  think.  Indeed  it  is,  sir !  Ah,  you'll 
have  a  fine  day  for  a  walk,  sir.  Good-morning,  sir." 

If  it  slackens  at  all,  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  the  rain 
pours  down  again  densely  and  with  renewed  vehemence ;  and  the 
wind,  coming  from  behind,  fairly  twists  me  about,  and  hurries  me 


THE  ROAD  IN  A  STORM.  293 

along  in  its  strong,  fitful  gusts.  It  is  market-day  in  Wararinster, 
and,  as  I  go  out,  every  body  and  every  thing  else  seems  to  be 
coming  in.  Men,  women,  and  children,  in  all  sorts  of  English 
vehicles — spring-carts,  taxed-carts,  great  broad-wheeled  carts,  or 
long  wagons,  with  bodies  of  a  curious  curved  form  flaring  out 
over  the  wheels,  canvas  tops,  stretched  over  all,  upon  hoops ; 
sometimes  two  horses  abreast,  drawing  them  in  a  double  set  of 
shafts ;  oftener  two  or  three,  and  frequently  four,  five,  or  six,  all 
in  a  line  (tandem),  great,  intelligent  beasts,  keeping  well  to  the 
left,  where  none  will  interfere  with  them,  and  they  can  legally 
harm  no  one.  ("  Keep  the  left,"  is  the  rule  of  the  road  in  Eng- 
land ;  not  the  right,  as  with  us.)  They  are  driven  without  reins ; 
and  more  than  once  this  morning  I  saw  the  driver,  well  dosed 
with  beer,  I  suppose,  and  fatigued  with  night-work,  fast  asleep  on 
the  top  of  his  load.  Once  I  saw  a  gentleman,  who  had  nearly 
run  against  one  of  these  sleeping  fellows,  strike  him  smartly  with 
his  whip  as  he  passed — "You  had  best  wake  up,  sir;  who's  your 

master?"     "Mr. ,  of ,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  rubbing 

himself.  "  Very  well ;  I  shall  let  him  know  what  sort  of  a  carter 
he  has."  A  Yankee  driver,  so  waked  up,  would  have  replied  to 
the  whip  first,  perhaps.  Gentlemen  come  at  a  spanking  pace,  in 
dog-carts,  or  in  the  saddle,  screwing  their  heads  as  deep  as  they 
can  into  their  drab  coats,  bending  low,  and  their  hats  pulled  down 
tight  upon  their  brows,  hardly  ever  with  an  umbrella,  but  with  a 
groom  with  gold  hat-band  by  their  side  sometimes.  They  look 
scowlingly,  as  they  approach,  at  me ;  with  my  hat-brim  turned 
up  before  and  down  behind  to  shed  the  water  from  my  face,  my 
water-proof  cape  tightly  fastened  at  my  waist  behind,  and  swell- 
ing and  fluttering  before,  my  arms  folded  under  it,  I  return  their 
inquiring  stare  complacently ;  some,  as  they  come  up,  draw  their 
lips  resolutely  tighter,  and  give  me  about  quarter  of  a  nod,  as  if 
they  understood  and  approved  my  arrangement.  Men  on  foot, 


294  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

and  women,  too,  with  clogs  and  pattens  and  old  green  and  blue 
umbrellas,  and  bundles  and  bags  and  baskets  and  hampers  and 
cages  and  parcels  in  handkerchiefs ;  old  and  young,  lasses  and 
lads,  generally  three  or  four  couples  together,  coming  to  town  for 
a  holiday,  loudly  laughing  and  coarsely  joking ;  bound  to  enjoy 
themselves  spite  of  the  shameful  indelicacy  of  the  wind,  and  the 
chill  drenching  of  the  rain,  and  the  misplaced  attachment  to  their 
finery  of  the  spattering  mud. 


WILTSHIRE  LANDSCAPE.  295 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  South-Downs  —  Wiltshire  Landscape  —  Chalk  and  Flint  —  Irrigation  — 
The  Cost  and  Profit  of  Water-Meadows — Sewerage  Water  —  Irrigation 
in  Old  Times. 

COON  after  leaving  Warminster,  began  a  quite  different  style 
^  of  landscape  from  any  I  have  before  seen :  long  ranges  and 
large  groups  of  high  hills  with  gentle  and  gracefully  undulating 
slopes ;  broad  and  deep  dells  between  and  within  them,  through 
which  flow  in  tortuous  channels  streamlets  of  exceedingly  pure, 
sparkling  water.  These  hills  are  bare  of  trees,  except  rarely  a 
close  body  of  them,  covering  a  space  of  perhaps  an  acre,  and  evi- 
dently planted  by  man.  "Within  the,  shelter  of  these  you  will 
sometimes  see  that  there  is  a  large  farm-house  with  small  stables. 
The  valleys  are  cultivated,  but  the  hills  in  greater  part  are  cov- 
ered, without  the  slightest  variety,  except  what  arises  from  the 
changing  contour  of  the  ground,  with  short,  fine  grass,  standing 
thinly,  but  sufficiently  close  to  give  the  appearance,  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  eye,  of  a  smooth,  velvety,  green  surface. 
Among  the  first  of  the  hills  I  observed,  at  a  high  elevation,  long 
angular  ramparts  and  earth-works,  all  greened  over.  Within 
them,  and  at  the  summit  of  the  hill,  were  several  extensive 
tumuli,  evidently  artificial  (though  I  find  nothing  about  it  in  the 
books),  and  on  the  top  of  one  of  these  was  a  shepherd  and  dog 


296  A^Y  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

and  a  large  flock  of  sheep,  appearing  of  gigantic  size  against  the 
leaden  clouds  behind.  In  the  course  of  the  day  I  met  with  many 
of  these  flocks,  and  nearly  all  the  lull-land  seemed  given  up  to 
them.  I  was  upon  the  border,  in/act,  of  the  great  South-down 
district,  and,  during  the  next  week,  the  greater  part  of  the  country 
through  which  we  were  traveling,  was  of  the  same  general  char- 
acter of  landscape,  though  not  always  as  green,  varied,  and 
pleasing  as  in  these  outskirts. 

Geologically,  it  is  a  chalk  district,  the  whole  earth,  high  and 
low,  and  to  any  depth  that  I  saw  it  exposed,  being  more  or  less 
white,  generally  gray,  but  sometimes  white  as  snow.  The  only 
stone  is  flint,  which  occurs  in  small  boulders  or  pebbles,  cased  in 
a  hardened  crust  of  carbonate  of  lime  mingled  irregularly  with 
the  chalk,  more  thickly  on  the  hill-tops,  and  often  gathered  in 
beds.  The  road  is  made  of  these  flint  pebbles,  broken  fine,  and 
their  chalk-crust,  powdered  by  the  attrition  of  wheels,  is  worked 
up  into  a  slippery  paste  during  such  heavy  rains  as  I  was  expe- 
riencing, and  makes  the  walking  peculiarly  fatiguing.  The  soil 
upon  the  hills  is  very  dry  and  thin.  In  the  valleys  it  is  deeper 
and  richer,  being  composed,  in  a  considerable  part,  of  the  wash 
of  the  higher  country,  and  the  wheat  and  forage  crops  are  often 
very  luxuriant.  Advantage  is  sometimes  taken  of  the  streams  to 
form  water-meadows,  and  the  effect  of  irrigation  can  often  be 
seen  at  a  considerable  distance  in  the  deeper  green  and  greater 
density  of  the  grass  upon  them.  As  these  meadows  are  of  great 
agricultural  value,  I  will  describe  the  method  of  construction  and 
management  of  them. 

An  artificial  channel  is  made,  into  which  the  water  of  a  brook 
may  be  turned  at  will.  This  is  carried  along  for  as  great  a  dis- 
tance as  practicable,  so  as  to  skirt  the  upper  sides  of  fields  of  a 
convenient  surface  for  irrigation.  At  suitable  intervals  there  are 
gates  and  smaller  channels,  and  eventually  a  great  number  of 


WA  TER-MEADO  WS.  297 


minor  ducts,  through  which  the  water  is  distributed.  The  fields 
are  divided  by  low  walls,  so  that  the  water  can  be  retained  upon 
them  as  long  as  is  desired,  and  then  drawn  off  to  a  lower  level. 
Commonly,  a  series  of  meadows,  held  by  different  farmers,  are 
flooded  from  one  source,  and  old  custom  or  agreement  fixes  the 
date  of  commencing  the  irrigation  and  the  period  of  time  at  which 
the  water  shall  be  moved  from  one  to  another. 

The  main  flooding  is  usually  given  in  October,  after  the  grass 
has  been  closely  eaten  off  by  neat  stock.  It  is  then  allowed  to 
remain  resting  or  quietly  flowing  over  the  land  for  two  or  three 
weeks ;  or  for  two  weeks,  and,  after  an  interval  of  a  day  or  two, 
for  two  weeks  more.  This  consolidates  the  grassy  surface,  and 
encourages  the  growth  of  roots.  The  grass  springs  and  grows 
luxuriantly  after  it,  and,  as  soon  as  it  is  observed  to  flag,  the 
water  is  again  let  in  for  two  or  three  weeks ;  it  may  be  twice 
during  the  winter.  Whenever  a  scum  is  observed  to  form,  indi- 
cating that  decomposition  is  commencing  below,  the  water  is  im- 
mediately drawn.  In  warm  weather  this  will  occur  very  soon, 
perhaps  in  a  day  or  two.  I  believe  it  is  intended  not  to  allow 
the  water  ever  to  freeze  upon  the  meadows.  In  the  spring,  by 
the  middle  of  March,  sometimes,  sheep  and  lambs  are  turned  on 
to  the  grass.  After  being  fed  pretty  closely,  they  are  removed, 
and  the  meadows  are  left  for  a  crop  of  hay.  They  are  ready  for 
mowing  in  less  than  two  months,  and  are  then,  after  a  short  in- 
terval, pastured  again  with  horned  cattle  and  horses.  Some 
meadows  are  never  pastured,  and  yield  three  heavy  crops  of 
hay.  Mr.  Pusey  (a  member  of  Parliament)  declares,  that  he 
keeps  sheep  upon  his  water-meadows,  in  Berkshire,  at  the  rate 
of  thirty-six  an  acre,  well  fed,  and  intimates  his  belief  that  the 
produce  of  grass-land  is  doubled  by  irrigation.  Grass  and  hay, 
however,  from  irrigated  meadows,  are  of  slightly  less  nourishing 
quality.  It  is  generally  said,  that  a  single  winter's  flooding  will 


Ay  AMERICAX  FARMER  L\  EXGLAXD. 

increase  the  growth  of  grass  equal  to  a  top-dressing  of  thirty 
(thirty  bushel)  loads  of  dung. 

We  may  judge  somewhat  from  these  facts  and  opinions  of 
practical  men,  whether,  in  any  given  circumstances,  we  can  afford 
to  construct  the  dam,  channels,  gates,  sluices,  etc.,  by  which  we 
may  use  this  method  of  fertilizing  our  meadows.  There  are 
millions  of  acres  in  the  United  States  that  could  be  most  readily 
made  subject  to  the  system.  The  outlay  for  permanent  works 
might  often  be  very  inconsiderable,  and  the  labor  of  making  use 
of  them,  after  construction,  would  be  almost  nothing.  The  cost 
of  conveying  manure,  and  its  distribution  by  carts  and  manual 
labor,  is  a  very  important  item  in  the  expenditure  of  most  of  our 
eastern  farms ;  and,  though  this  is  felt  less  here,  where  labor  is 
cheaper,  we  may  obtain  many  economical  hints  with  regard  to  it 
from  British  practice.  Fields  distant  from  the  farmstead,  and 
hill-lands  not  easily  accessible,  should  nearly  always  be  enriched 
by  bone,  guano  and  other  concentrated  manures ;  of  which  a  man 
may  carry  more  on  his  back  than  will  be  of  equal  value  with 
many  cart-loads  of  dung,  or  by  some  other  means  which  will  dis- 
pense with  long  and  heavy  transportation.  I  have  obtained  in- 
creased crops,  with  a  saving  of  some  hundred  dollars  a-year  of 
expenditure,  in  this  way. 

Different  streams  vary  in  their  value  for  irrigation.  The 
muddiest  streams  are  the  best,  as  they  generally  carry  suspended 
a  great  deal  of  the  fertile  matter  of  the  land  through  which  they 
have  flowed ;  often,  too,  road-washings,  and  other  valuable  drain- 
ings,  have  been  taken  along  with  them,  and  these  are  caused  to 
be  deposited  upon  the  meadow.  A  perfectly  transparent  fluid 
will  often,  however,  have  most  valuable  salts  in  solution ;  and  I 
noticed  that  most  of  the  Wiltshire  streams  were  peculiarly  clear, 
reminding  me  of  the  White  Mountain  trout-brooks.  It  is  said 
that  streams  abounding  in  fish,  and  which  have  abundance  of 


SEWERAGE  MANURE.  299 

aquatic  plants  and  luxuriant  vegetation  upon  their  borders,  are 
to  be  relied  upon  as  the  most  enriching  in  their  deposit. 
Streams  into  which  the  sewerage  of  large  towns  is  emptied,  are 
often  of  the  greatest  value  for  agricultural  purposes.  A  stream 
thus  enriched  is  turned  to  important  account  near  Edinburg :  cer- 
tain lands,  which  were  formerly  barren  wastes,  being  merely  the 
clean,  dry  sands  thrown  up  by  the  sea  in  former  times,  having 
been  arranged  so  that  they  may  be  flowed.  The  expense  of  the 
operation  was  great — about  one  hundred  dollars  an  acre — and 
the  annual  cost  of  flooding  is  very  much  greater  than  usual — 
four  or  five  dollars  an  acre ;  but  the  crops  of  hay  are  so  frequent 
and  enormous  (ten  cuttings  being  made  in  a  season),  that  some 
parts  of  the  meadow  rent  for  one  hundred  dollars  a-year  for  one 
acre,  and  none  for  less  than  seventy-five  dollars ! 

It  is  estimated  by  the  distinguished  agriculturist,  Smith  of 
Deanston,  that  the  sewerage-water  of  a  town  may  be  contracted 
for,  to  be  delivered,  (sent  by  subterranean  pipes  and  branches, 
so  that  it  may  be  distributed  over  any  required  surface,)  eleven 
miles  out  of  town,  for  four  cents  a  ton.  Mr.  Hawksley,  a  pru- 
dent engineer,  offers  to  convey  it  five  miles,  and  raise  it  two  hun- 
dred feet,  for  five  cents  a  ton ;  the  expense  of  carting  it  to  the 
same  distance  and  elevation  being  estimated  at  about  $1.  An- 
other estimate  makes  the  expense  of  conveying  and  distributing 
manure,  in  the  solid  form,  as  compared  with  liquid,  at  fifteen  dol- 
lars to  seventy-five  cents,  for  equal  fertilizing  values.  Professor 
Johnston  estimates  the  annual  fertilizing  value  of  the  sewerage 
of  a  town  of  one  thousand  inhabitants,  as  equal  to  a  quantity 
of  guano  which,  at  present  American  prices,  would  be  worth 
$13,000.  Smith  of  Deanston  estimates  the  cost  of  manuring  an 
acre  by  sewerage,  conveyed  in  aqueducts  and  distributed  by  jet- 
pipes,  at  three  dollars  an  acre,  and  that  of  fertilizing  it  to  an 
equal  degree,  in  the  usual  way,  by  farm-yard  manure,  at  fifteen 


300  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  ENGLAND. 

dollars.  Considering  that  the  expense  of  conveyance  and  distri- 
bution of  solid  manure  is  much  greater  in  America  than  in  Eng- 
land, these  figures  are  not  without  personal  interest  to  us. 

The  use  of  manure-dram  ings  and  the  urine  of  the  cattle  of  a 
farm,  very  much  diluted  with  spring  water,  has  been  found  to 
have  such  astonishing  immediate  effects,  when  distributed  over 
young  herbage,  that  several  English  agricultural  pioneers  are 
making  extensive  and  costly  permanent  arrangements  for  its  dis- 
tribution, from  their  stables,  over  large  surfaces.  It  is  first  col- 
lected in  tanks,  where  it  is  retained  until  putrefied,  and  mixed 
with  the  water  of  irrigation.  This  is  then  driven  by  forcing- 
pumps  into  the  pipes  which  convey  it,  so  that  it  can  be  distribut- 
ed, (in  one  case,  over  one  hundred  and  seventy  acres.)  The 
pipes  are  hard-burnt  clay-pipes,  an  inch  thick,  joined  with  ce- 
ment, costing  here  about  twelve  and  a-half  cents  a-yard.  The 
pipe  is  laid  under  ground,  and  at  convenient  intervals  there  are 
heads  coming  to  the  surface  with  stop-cocks,  where  a  hose  can 
be  attached  and  the  water  further  guided  in  any  direction.  For 
greater  distances,  a  cart  like  those  used  for  sprinkling  the  dusty 
streets  of  our  cities  is  used.  It  is  conjectured  that,  eventually, 
all  manure  will  be  furnished  to  land  in  a  state  of  solution. 

I  believe  irrigation  is  only  used  for  grass  in  England ;  but  it 
probably  would  be  found  of  great  advantage  to  other  valuable 
crops.  I  have  seen  large  fields  of  roots,  apparently  of  the  char- 
acter of  turnips,  irrigated  in  China :  rice,  though  it  grows  very 
well  on  dry  land,  is  so  much  benefited  by  irrigation  that  it  is 
hardly  anywhere  made  a  staple  crop,  unless  there  are  facilities 
for  irrigation.  I  suspect  that  irrigation,  and  even  that  expensive 
form  of  it  that  I  have  last  described,  might  be  profitably  used, 
for  certain  plants,  by  our  market-gardeners ;  for  celery  and  as- 
paragus for  instance ;  and  it  is  well  known  that  enormous  straw- 
berries, and  unusually  large  and  long-continuing  crops  of  them, 


GARDEN  IRRIGATION.  301 

have  resulted  from  an  inefficient  and  unsystematic  kind  of  irriga- 
tion. A  small  experiment,  made  by  myself,  with  Indian  corn, 
resulted  in  a  great  growth  of  stalk  and  in  unhealthy  malformed 
grain.* 

Irrigation  is  of  the  least  advantage  upon  heavy  clay  soils,  and 
of  the  greatest  upon  light  sandy  loams  with  gravelly  subsoils. 
It  is  very  desirable  that  the  construction  of  the  soil  should  be 
such  that  the  water  may  gradually  and  somewhat  rapidly  filter 
through  it ;  and  it  is  considered  of  great  importance,  when  the 
water  is  drawn  off  after  the  flooding  (drowning  is  the  local  term), 
that  it  should  be  very  completely  removed,  leaving  no  small 
pools  upon  the  surface.  Stagnating  water,  either  above  or  be- 
low the  surface,  is  poisonous  to  most  plants. 

I  may  remind  those  who  have  a  prejudice  against  new  prac- 
tices in  agriculture,  that  irrigation  was  practiced  as  long  ago  as 
the  days  of  the  patriarchs.  In  this  part  of  England  it  has  been 
in  use  since  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  at 
which  time  an  agreeably-written  book  on  the  subject  was  publish- 
ed by  one  Rowland  Vaughan,  Esq.  The  account  of  the  way 
that  he  was  first  led  to  make  systematic  trial  of  irrigation,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  proceeded,  is  amusing  and  instructive : 

"  In  the  month  of  March  I  happened  to  find  a  mole  or  wont's  nest  raised 
on  the  brim  of  a  brook  in  my  meade,  like  a  great  hillock  5  and  from  it  there 
issued  a  little  streame  of  water  (drawn  by  the  working  of  the  mole),  down  a 
shelving  ground,  one  pace  broad,  and  some  twenty  in  length.  The  running 
of  this  little  streame  did  at  that  time  wonderfully  content  me,  seeing  it 
pleasing  greene,  and  that  other  land  on  both  sides  was  full  of  moss,  and 
hide-bound  for  want  of  water.  This  was  the  first  cause  I  undertook  the 
drowning  of  grounds. 

"  Now  to  proceed  to  the  execution  of  my  worke  :  being  perswaded  of  the 
excellency  of  the  water,  I  examined  how  many  foote  fall  the  brooke  yielded 

*  I  have  seen  extensive  fields  of  maize  irrigated,  on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  scarcely  any 
is  grown  except  by  irrigation  in  the  valley  of  that  river. 


302  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

from  my  mill  to  the  uppermost  part  of  my  grounds,  being  in  length  a  meas- 
ured mile.  There  laye  of  meadow  land  thirty  acres  overworn  with  age.  and 
heavily  laden  with  moss,  cowslips  and  much  other  imperfect  grass,  betwixt 
my  mill  stream  and  the  mane  river,  which  (with  two  shillings  cost)  my 
grandfather  and  his  grandsire,  with  the  rest,  might  have  drowned  at  their 
pleasure ;  but  from  the  beginning  never  anything  was  done,  that  either  tra- 
dition or  record  could  witness,  or  any  other  testimonie. 

"  Having  viewed  the  convenientest  place,  which  the  uppermost  part  of 
my  ground  would  afford  for  placing  a  commanding  weare  or  sluce,  I  espied 
divers  water  falls  on  my  neighbours'  grounds,  higher  than  mine  by  seven  or 
eight  foote :  which  gave  me  great  advantage  of  drowning  more  ground, 
than  I  was  of  mine  own  power  able  to  do. 

"  I  acquainted  them  with  my  purpose ;  the  one  being  a  gentleman  of 
worth  and  good  nature,  gave  me  leave  to  plant  the  one  end  of  my  weare  on 
his  side  the  river  :  the  other,  my  tenant,  being  very  aged  and  simple,  by  no 
perswasion  I  could  use,  would  yield  his  consent,  alledging  it  would  marre 
his  grounds,  yea,  sometimes  his  apple  trees  ;  and  men  told  him  water  would 
raise  the  rush,  and  kill  his  cowslips,  which  was  the  chiefest  flower  his 
daughters  had  to  tricke  the  May-pole  withal. 

"  After  I  had  wrought  thus  far,  I  caused  my  servant,  a  joiner,  to  make  a 
levell  to  discover  what  quantity  of  ground  I  might  obtaine  from  the  entry 
of  the  water ;  allowing  his  doubling  course,  compassing  hills  to  carry  it 
plym  or  even,  which  fell  out  to  be  some  three  hundred  acres. 

"After  I  had  plymned  it  upon  a  true  levell,  I  betooke  myself  to  the  favour 
of  my  tenants,  friends  and  neighbours,  in  running  my  maine  trench,  which  I 
call  my  trench-royal.  I  call  it  so,  because  I  have  within  the  contents  of  my 
worke,  counter-trenches,  defending-trenches,  topping-trenches,  winter  and 
summer-trenches,  double  and  treble-trenches,  a  traversing-trench  with  a 
point,  and  an  everlasting-trench,  with  other  troublesome  trenches,  which  in 
a  map  I  will  more  lively  expresse.  When  the  inhabitants  of  the  country 
wherein  I  inhabit  (namely  the  Golden  Valley)  saw  1  had  begun  some  part 
of  my  worke,  they  summoned  a  consultation  against  me  and  my  man  John, 
the  leveller,  saying  our  wits  were  in  our  hands,  not  in  our  heads ;  so  we 
both,  for  three  or  four  years  lay  levell  to  the  whole  country's  censure  for 
such  engineers  as  their  forefathers  heard  not  of,  nor  they  well  able  to  en- 
dure without  merryments. 

"  In  the  running  and  casting  of  my  trench-royal,  though  it  was  levelled 


MAIDS  AND  MEADOWS.  303 

from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  upon  the  face  of  the  ground,  yet  in  the  bot- 
tom I  did  likewise  levell  it  to  avoyde  error. 

"  For  the  breadth  and  depth,  my  proportion  is  ten  foote  broad,  and  four 
foote  deep ;  unless  in  the  beginning,  to  fetch  the  water  to  my  drowning 
grounds,  I  ran  it  some  half  mile  eight  foote  deep,  and  in  some  places  six- 
teen foote  broad.  All  the  rest  of  the  course,  for  two  miles  and  a  half  in 
length,  according  to  my  former  proportion.  When  my  worke  began  in  the 
eye  of  the  country  to  carry  a  shew  of  profit,  it  pleased  many  out  of  their 
courtesie  to  give  it  commendations,  and  applaud  the  invention." 

The  author  then  makes  a  considerable  digression,  to  account 
for  a  delay  in  his  proceedings,  which  was  occasioned  by  processes 
issued  against  him  from  the  courts  of  Star  Chamber,  Chancery, 
and  Wardes,  to  compel  him  to  deliver  his  niece  and  ward  into 
their  custody. 

"  These  courts,7'  he  observes,  "  bred  more  white  haires  in  my  head  in  one 
year  than  all  my  wet-shod  water-works  did  in  sixteen.  So  leaving  my 
wanton  ward  in  London,  in  the  custody  of  a  precisian  or  puritan  taylor, 
who  would  not  endure  to  heare  one  of  his  journeymen  sweare  by  the  cross 
ol  his  shears  ;  so  full  was  he  of  sanctity  in  deceipt.  But  the  first  news  I 
heard  was,  that  he  had  married  my  "Welch  niece  to  his  Englis  nephew  ;  and 
at  my  return,  I  was  driven  to  take  his  word,  that  he  was  neither  privy  to 
the  contract,  nor  the  marriage." 

Mr.  Vaughan  next  gives  the  following  directions  for  carrying 
this  plan  into  effect : 

"  Having  prepared  your  drowning  course,  be  very  careful  that  all  the 
ground  subject  to  the  same,  whether  meadow,  pasture,  or  arable,  be  as  plain 
as  any  garden-plotte,  and  without  furrows.  Then  follows  your  attendance 
in  flood-times :  see  that  you  suffer  not  your  flood  water  by  negligence  to 
pass  away  into  the  brooke,  river,  and  sea,  but  by  your  sluice  command  it 
to  your  grounds,  and  continue  it  playing  thereon  so  long  as  it  appears 
muddy.  In  the  beginning  of  March  clear  your  ground  of  cold  water,  and 
keep  it  as  dry  as  a  child  under  the  hands  of  a  dainty  nurse  ;  observing  gen- 
erally that  sandy  ground  will  endure  ten  times  more  water  than  the  clay. 
A  day  or  two  before  you  mow,  if  sufficient  showers  have  not  qualified  the 


304  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

drought  of  your  ground,  let  down  your  sluice  into  your  trench-royal,  that 
thereby  you  may  command  so  much  water  to  serve  your  turn  as  you  desire. 
Suffer  it  to  descend  where  you  mean  first  to  mow,  and  you  shall  find  this 
manner  of  drowning  in  the  morning  before  you  mow  so  profitable  and  good, 
that  commonly  you  gain  ten  or  twelve  days'  advantage  in  growing.  For 
drowning  before  mowing,  a  day,  or  even  two  or  three,  so  supplies  the 
ground,  that  it  doth  most  sweetly  release  the  root  of  every  particular 
grasse,  although  the  sun  be  never  so  extream  hot.  This  practice  will  often 
make  a  good  second  mowing,  and  in  walking  over  grounds,  I  will  tread  as 
on  velvet,  or  a  Turkey  carpet." 


SHEPHERDS  AND  FLOCKS.  305 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Flocks,  Dogs,  and  Shepherds  of  Salisbury  Plain  —  Village  Almshouses — 
Ostentation  in  Alms-giving  —  A  Forced  March  —  At  Home  in  Salisbury 
—  The  Street  Brooks  —  The  Cathedral  —  Architectural  Remarks  and 
Advice  — Village  Churches. 

THE  chalk-hills,  or  downs  (locally  called  beak-land),  are  unen- 
•*•  closed,  and  rarely  separated  from  the  cultivated  land  by  more 
than  a  low  turf-wall,  often  not  at  all.  Once,  in  the  course  of  the 
morning,  I  came  near  a  flock  of  about  two  hundred  sheep,  feeding 
close  to  the  road,  and  stopped  a  few  moments  to  look  at  them. 
They  were  thorough-bred  South-downs ;  the  shepherd  sat  at  a 
little  distance,  upon  a  knoll,  and  the  dog  was  nearer  the  flock. 
Growing  close  up  to  the  edge  of  the  road,  opposite  the  sheep,  was 
a  heavy  piece  of  wheat ;  one  of  them  strayed  over  to  it.  The 
dog  cocked  his  ears  and  turned  quickly  several  times  towards  his 
master,  as  if  knowing  there  was  business  for  him,  and  waiting  for 
orders.  But  the  shepherd  was  looking  another  way,  and  others 
of  the  flock,  lifting  their  heads  as  I  approached  them,  and  seeing 
their  comrade  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  began  to  rush  after 
him,  as  is  the  manner  of  sheep ;  and  directly  there  were  a  dozen 
eagerly  nipping  the  wheat,  and  more  following.  The  dog,  sitting 
erect,  still  waited  for  orders,  till  the  shepherd,  turning,  spoke 
quickly  in  a  low  monosyllable.  Right  over  the  heads  of  the 
20 


306  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

flock,  bounding  from  head  to  head,  sprang  the  dog,  yelping 
sharply  as  he  reached  the  road ;  the  truants  returned,  and  the 
whole  flock  broke  at  once  into  a  hard  run — the  dog  dashing  first 
one  way,  then  the  other,  closing  them  rapidly  up,  and  keeping 
them  in  a  dense  mass,  until,  at  another  shout  from  the  shepherd, 
who  had  not  risen,  all  at  once  halted,  and,  turning  heads  out,  went 
to  feeding,  soon  closing  about  the  dog,  leaving  only  a  space  of  a 
few  feet  vacant  around  him.  The  dogs  used  by  most  of  the  shep- 
herds seem  to  be  mongrels,  generally  low  in  the  legs,  with  great 
heads,  short  necks,  and  rather  shaggy.  One  that  was  said  to  be 
very  sagacious  and  well-trained,  and  for  which  I  was  asked  thirty 
dollars,  appeared  as  if  a  cross  of  a  spaniel  with  a  terrier.  Gen- 
erally, the  dogs  were  valued  at  only  from  two  to  five  dollars. 

It  cleared  about  noon ;  and  after  the  rain  ceased  the  air  was 
calm,  hot,  and  steamy.  I  recollect  but  one  village,  two  rows  of 
ugly,  glaring,  red  brick  houses,  relieved  by  a  church,  rectory,  and 
two  other  buildings,  cool  and  pleasing,  under  shade  of  ivy ;  and 
a  large,  old  establishment,  with  cupalo  and  clock,  and  a  square, 
green,  shady  court  in  front  of  it  —  devoted,  as  appeared  by  an 
inscription  on  its  front,  by  somebody's  bequest  two  hundred  years 
ago,  to  the  maintenance,  in  comfort,  of  a  certain  number  of  aged 
widowers  and  bachelors  of  the  parish.  Such  retreats,  for  various 
denominations  of  the  poor  and  unfortunate,  called  almshouses  and 
hospitals  (vulgarly,  "'spittals"),  are  to  be  seen  in  almost  every 
town  in  England.  They  are  of  all  degrees  of  comfort  —  some 
stately  and  luxurious  —  others,  and  these  quite  common,  mere 
cottages  —  hovels  sometimes  —  generally  very  old,  and  nearly 
always  of  ancient  foundation.  With  more  or  less  ostentation,  the 
name  of  the  founder  is  displayed  on  the  front  —  sometimes  with 
his  bust,  statue,  arms,  or  a  ridiculous  allegorical  sculpture.  This 
plan  for  sending  a  dying  sinner's  name  down  to  future  genera- 
tions, with  the  grateful  embalmment  of  charity,  seems  latterly  out 


THE  FORCED  MARCH.  307 

of  fashion.  What  improved  type  of  character  does  it  indicate, 
that  the  rich  oftener  prefer  now  to  make  their  tribute  to  public 
opinion,  by  having  their  gift-money  used  while  they  yet  live,  and 
the  amount  of  it  paraded  with  their  names  in  the  newspapers? 
Their  "  left  hands,"  probably,  do  not  read  the  newspapers. 

I  was  disappointed  in  not  finding  my  friends  at  this  village,  but 
soon  after  leaving  it  met  two  Germans  traveling  on  foot,  who  said 
they  had  met,  at  three  hours  back,  two  gentlemen,  who  wore  hats 
and  knapsacks  like  mine.  I  feared  that,  not  hearing  from  me  at 
Salisbury,  they  would  conclude  I  had  gone  on  by  Cirencester,  to 
the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  would  go  by  the  five-o'clock  train  to  over- 
take me.  It  was  therefore  necessary  that  I  should  hasten  in  to 
arrest  them.  I  yet  made  two  or  three  stoppages,  once  to  con- 
verse with  a  shepherd,  and  once  to  sketch  the  outlines  of  a  group 
of  cottages,  intending  to  take  the  coach,  which  I  was  told  would 
be  passing  in  a  few  minutes.  But  when  coming  up  a  hill,  I  rose 
the  fine  spire  of  the  cathedral,  some  three  miles  distant,  and  the 
coach  still  not  in  sight,  I  strapped  tight  my  knapsack  and  went 
the  rest  of  the  way  at  "  double  quick."  Teamsters  stopped  their 
wagons  as  I  met  them,  children  at  the  cottage-doors  called  their 
mothers  to  help  look  at  me,  and  at  the  office  of  the  "  Wilts  Game 
Law  Reporter,"  as  I  entered  the  town,  taking  the  middle  of  the 
street,  a  fat  old  gentleman  in  top-boots  eagerly  took  out  his  watch 
and  timed  me,  evidently  supposing  it  was  some  interesting  affair 
on  a  wager.  Finding  the  post-office,  but  not  finding  any  note  for 
me,  I  hastened  on  still  to  the  station,  which  was  well  out  of  the 
town  on  the  other  side,  and  which  I  reached  at  the  same  moment 
with  the  delaying  stage-coach.  The  train  started  a  moment  after- 
wards. The  policeman  in  attendance  was  certain  that  no  persons 
such  as  I  described  had  entered  the  station-house,  and  I  returned 
to  the  town,  and  going  first  to  the  cathedral,  there  found  J.  and 
C.  lying  under  the  trees  in  delighted  contemplation  of  its  beauty. 


308  AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAND. 

We  spent  Sunday  at  Salisbury.  We  were  fortunate  in  finding 
a  comfortable,  quiet,  old  inn,  in  which  we  were  the  only  lodgers. 
After  once  getting  acquainted  with  the  crooked,  elaborate  stair- 
ways and  passages,  and  learning  the  relative  position  of  our  cham- 
bers and  the  common  rooms,  we  were  as  much  at  home,  as  quiet, 
and  as  able  to  command  whatever  we  had  occasion  for,  as  if  we 
had  leased  the  house,  furnished,  and  manned  it.  The  landlady 
was  our  housekeeper,  the  servants  our  domestics.  We  saw  no 
one  but  them,  (till  night,  when  we  happened  to  discover,  in  a  re- 
mote subterranean  corner,  a  warm,  smoky,  stone-cavern,  in  which 
a  soldier,  a  stage-coachman,  and  others,  were  making  merry  with 
ladies,  beer,  and  song,)  and  them  we  saw  only  as  we  chose  to. 
We  had  a  large,  comfortable  parlor,  with  dark-colored  furniture, 
of  an  age  in  which  ease  was  not  sacrificed  to  decoration ;  a  dais 
and  bow-window,  old  prints  of  Nelson's  victories,  and  Garrick 
and  Siddons  in  Shakspearian  characters,  a  smouldering  sea-coal 
fire,  several  country  newspapers,  and  a  second-hand  last  week's 
Times.  Preposterous  orders  were  listened  to  without  a  smile, 
receipts  for  Yankee  dishes  distinctly  understood  in  all  their  elabo- 
ration without  impatience,  and  to  the  extent  of  the  resources  of 
the  establishment  faithfully  executed.  Only  once  was  the  mild 
business-manner  of  our  hostess  disturbed  by  an  appearance  of 
surprise ;  when  we  told  her  that  we  were  Americans,  she  raised 
her  eyes  in  blank  incredulity,  and  asked,  "  You  don't  mean  you 
were  born  in  America,  sir?" — meaning,  unquestionably,  "how 
could  you  be  so  white?"  The  servants  kept  out  of  sight;  our 
room  was  "  put  to  rights,"  our  clothes  arranged  in  a  bureau,  while 
we  were  at  breakfast ;  and  when  we  were  seated,  and  had  got 
fairly  under  way  with  an  excellent  home-like  dinner,  the  girl  who 
acted  for  waiter,  seeming  to  understand  our  humor,  put  a  hand- 
bell on  the  table  and  withdrew,  saying  that  we  would  please  to 
call  her  when  we  wanted  any  thing. 


SALISB  UR  Y  CA  TIIEDRAL.  309 

Along  the  sides  of  many  of  the  streets  of  Salisbury  there  flows, 
in  little  canals  some  six  feet  wide  by  two  or  three  deep,  with 
frequent  bridges  to  the  houses,  a  beautifully  clear,  rapid  stream 
of  water.  Otherwise,  the  general  appearance  of  the  town  is  of 
meagre  interest  compared  with  others  we  have  been  in.  But  it 
has  one  crowning  glory — the  cathedral. 

The  cathedral,  in  many  of  its  parts,  and  from  certain  positions, 
as  a  whole,  is  very  beautiful ;  the  symmetrical  spire,  especially 
against  an  evening  sky,  is  very  fine.  It  is  taller  by  several  feet 
than  any  other  in  England,  though  overtopped  by  several  of  the 
Continental  churches. 

We  have  more  pleasure  in  contemplating  it,  and  enjoy  more 
to  wander  around  and  through  it,  than  any  we  have  seen  before. 
It  is  more  satisfactory  to  us.  This,  I  believe,  is  partly  because 
of  its  greater  size,  partly  because  of  its  completeness,  its  unity : 
though  six  hundred  years  old,  you  would  not  readily  perceive  in 
approaching  it  that  it  was  not  entirely  a  new  edifice ;  no  repairs, 
no  additions,  especially  no  meddlesome  restorations.  Its  history 
is  worthy  of  note  with  respect  to  this :  it  was  only  thirty-eight 
years  in  construction,  except  the  spire,  which  was  added  rather 
later,  and  is  more  florid,  which  is  only  to  be  regretted. 

We  admire  and  enjoy  it,  and  yet  not  nearly  so  much  as  we 
should  have  expected  to  from  an  imagination  of  what  such  a 
great,  expensive,  and  artistic  pile  would  be.  You  will  wonder 
why.  I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  you.  It  fails  in  massiveness 
and  grandeur.  From  some  quarters  it  appears  a  mere  clutter  of 
wall,  windows,  buttresses,  and  pinnacles,  each  of  which  may  be 
fine  enough  in  itself,  but  which  gain  nothing  from  their  combina- 
tion. There  is  nowhere  a  sufficient  breadth  and  mass  of  wall,  I 
suspect,  for  the  grandeur  we  demand.  Once  or  twice  only  did  it 
awaken  any  thing  like  a  sense  of  sublimity,  and  then  it  did  not 
appear  to  me  to  be  due  to  any  architectural  intention. 


310  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Once,  late  in  the  day,  and  alone,  I  was  walking  from  the  end 
of  one  transept  towards  the  other,  when  an  emotion  came  over 
me  partaking  of  awe.  Afterwards,  in  trying  to  analyze  what  had 
occasioned  it,  I  found  that  my  face  was  turned  towards  two  great, 
dark  windows,  a  considerable  space  of  unbroken  wall  about  them, 
and  a  square,  massive  buttress,  all  in  the  deep  shade  between  the 
two  transepts.  From  the  simple,  solitary  grandeur  and  solemnity 
of  the  dark  recess,  there  had  come  a  sermon  on  humility  and  en- 
durance, to  me  more  eloquent  than  all  else  of  the  great  cathedral. 

The  wall  over  and  behind  this,  in  an  equal  space,  was  broken 
up  by  three  of  the  triple  windows,  which,  look  at  the  cathedral 
from  any  direction  you  will,  you  see  every  where  repeated,  until 
the  form  becomes  ugly.  Not  ugly  in  itself,  but  ugly  and  paltry, 
by  so  much  repetition,  in  an  edifice  of  such  grandeur.  If  all 
these  windows,  with  all  their  forms,  proportion,  color,  and  fashion 
of  carving,  had  been  the  work  of  one  man,  they  were  evidently 
that  man's  one  idea  ;  if  of  many  men,  then  they  were  servile  imi- 
tations. One  would  be,  perhaps,  a  worthy  and  beautiful  design 
— a  hundred  are  paltry,  ignominious,  mechanical  copies;  they 
might  be  iron-castings,  for  all  the  value  the  chisel  has  given  them. 
Should  there  not  be,  with  sufficient  regard  to  symmetrical  uni- 
formity, evidence  of  independent  design  in  the  details  of  every 
part  of  an  edifice  of  such  magnitude  ? 

From  the  little  study  that  I  was  able  to  give  Old-World  archi- 
tecture, my  advice  to  all  building-committee  gentlemen  of  no  more 
cultivated  taste  than  my  own  (that  to  such  these  crude  thoughts 
may  give  hints  of  value,  is  my  apology  for  printing  them),  would 
be,  Stick  to  simplicity.  The  grand  '  effect  of  architecture  must 
be  from  form  and  proportion.  Favor  designs,  therefore,  which, 
in  their  grand  outlines,  are  at  once  satisfactory ;  then  beware  of 
enfeebling  their  strong  features  by  childish  ornaments  and  baby- 
house  appendages.  Simplicity  of  outline  is  especially  necessary 


REMARKS  ON  ARCHITECTURE.  311 

to  any  thing  like  dignity  in  an  edifice  of  moderate  size.  The 
smallest  parish  churches  of  the  old  Saxon  architecture,  with  thick, 
rude,  unchiseled  walls,  strong  enough  to  have  needed  no  buttress- 
es, and  therefore  having  none — a  low  square  tower  or  belfry,  with 
flat,  lead  roof,  and  a  very  few  irregularly-placed,  deep,  round- 
arched  windows  and  portals,  I  have  found  far  more  inspiring  of 
the  solemnity  of  humility  which  should  accompany  the  formal 
worship  of  the  Almighty,  tBan  most  of  the  very  large  churches 
that  have  been  built  with  the  greater  wealth  and  more  finical 
taste  of  later  generations. 


312  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

Salisbury  Plain  —  Strange  Desert  Character  of  the  Scenery— The  Agricul- 
ture —  Sainfoin  and  Lucerne  —  Large  Farms  —  Effect  on  Laborers  —  Par- 
ing and  Burning — When  Expedient — Expense —  Sheep-Folding — Move- 
able  Railways  and  Sheds. 

June  \lth. 

"  O  TANDIXG  across  the  downs :  course  E.  by  N.,  muggy 
^  weather  and  light  airs," — regularly  at  sea,  without  chart 
or  compass.  A  strange,  weary  waste  of  elevated  lund,  undulating 
like  a  prairie,  sparsely  greened  over  its  gray  surface  with  short 
grass;  uninhabited  and  treeless;  only,  at  some  miles  asunder, 
broken  by  charming  vales  of  rich  meadows  and  clusters  of  farm- 
houses and  shepherds'  cottages,  darkly  bowered  about  with  the 
concentrated  foliage  of  the  whole  country. 

For  long  intervals  we  were  entirely  out  of  sight  of  tree  or 
house  or  man,  or  even  sign  of  man,  more  than  an  indistinct  cart- 
track  or  trail.  Had  you  any  idea  there  was  such  a  desert  in 
England  ? 

The  trails  run  crookedly,  divide  and  cross  frequently,  and  but 
rarely  is  there  a  rude  guide-post.  Twice  or  thrice  we  were  as 
completely  lost  as  Oregon  emigrants  might  be  in  the  wilderness, 
and  walked  for  miles  with  only  the  dim,  yellowish  spot  that  stood 
for  the  sun  in  the  misty  firmament,  to  be  guided  by.  Large 
flocks,  with  shepherds  and  dogs,  we  sometimes  saw,  and  here 


LARGE  FARMS.  313 


and  there  a  square  clump  of  beech  or  fir  trees,  intended  probably 
as  an  occasional  retreat  for  the  sheep.  More  rarely  a  great 
farm-house,  with  stacks  and  stables  and  great  sheep-yards,  al- 
ways so  sheltered  about  by  steep  slopes  and  trees,  close  planted 
upon  some  artificially-elevated  soil,  that  we  came  by  chance  and 
unexpectedly  in  near  proximity  before  we  saw  them.  Occasion- 
ally, even  on  the  downs,  and  entirely  unenclosed,  there  is  culti- 
vated land  and  very  large  breadths  of  some  single  crop,  much  of 
good  promise,  too,  but  the  wheat  universally  infested  with  char- 
lock. 

But  the  valleys  are  finely  cultivated,  and  the  crops,  especially 
of  sainfoin  and  lucerne,  which  is  extensively  grown  here,  very 
heavy.  , 

Sainfoin  and  lucerne  are  both  forage  crops,  somewhat  of  the 
character  of  clover.  Sainfoin  only  succeeds  well,  I  believe,  on 
chalky  soils  or  where  there  is  much  lime,  and  has  not  been  found 
of  value  in  the  United  States.  Lucerne  has  been  extensively 
cultivated  in  some  parts,  but  not  generally  with  us.  I  have  heard 
of  its  doing  well  in  a  cold,  bleak  exposure  upon  the  Massachu- 
setts coast,  but  it  should  have  a  warm,  rich  soil,  deeply  cultivated, 
and  be  started  well  clean  of  weeds,  when  it  may  be  depended 
upon  to  yield  three  to  five  heavy  cuttings  of  green  fodder,  equal 
in  value  to  clover,  or  three  to  seven  tons  of  hay,  of  the  value  of 
which  I  am  not  well  informed. 

The  valley  lands  are  sometimes  miles  wide,  and  cultivation  is 
extended  often  far  up  the  hills.  The  farms  are  all  very  large, 
often  including  a  thousand  acres  of  tillage  land,  and  two,  three  or 
four  thousand  of  down.  A  farm  of  less  than  a  thousand  acres  is 
spoken  of  as  small,  and  it  often  appears  that  one  farmer,  renting 
all  the  land  in  the  vicinity,  gives  employment  to  all  the  people 
of  a  village.  Whether  it  is  owing  to  this  (to  me)  most  repugnant 
state  of  things,  or  not,  it  is  certainly  just  what  I  had  expected  to 


314  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

find  in  connection  with  it,  that  laborers'  wages  are  lower  probably 
than  anywhere  else  in  England — seven,  and  sometimes  six,  shil- 
lings ($1.68  and  $1.44)  being  all  that  a  man  usually  receives  for 
a  week's  labor. 

We  saw  seven  plows  at  work  together,  and  thirteen  swarths 
of  lucerne  falling  together  before  thirteen  mowers,  thirteen  women 
following  and  shaking  it  out.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  have  four 
or  five  hundred  acres  of  wheat  or  two  or  three  hundred  of  tur- 
nips growing  on  one  farm.  One  down  farmer  has  eight  hundred 
in  wheat  annually.  The  prairie  farmer  would  not  despise  such 
crops. 

As  there  is  no  chalk  soil  in  America,  I  will  not  dwell  long  up- 
on its  peculiarities  or  the  system  of  agriculture  adopfed  upon  it. 
The  manner  in  which  the  downs  are  brought  into  cultivation 
may,  however,  afford  some  hints  of  value  for  the  improvement 
of  other  poor,  thin  soils.  "The  sheepfold  and  artificial  manures 
are  looked  upon  as  the  mainstay  of  the  Wiltshire  down  farmer. 
When  the  downs  are  first  broken  up,  the  land  is  invariably  pared 
and  burnt,  and  then  sown  with  wheat.  Barley  is  usually  taken 
after  wheat,  and  this  is  followed  by  turnips  eaten  upon  the  ground. 
and  succeeded  by  wheat.  It  then  falls  into  the  usual  four  or  five- 
field  course,  a  piece  being  laid  out  annually  in  sainfoin,  to  rest  for 
several  years  before  being  broken  up  again.  The  sheepfold  is 
shifted  daily  until  the  whole  space  required  to  be  covered  [i.  e. 
manured]  is  gone  over.  Turnips  and  other  green  crops  are  con- 
sumed where  they  grow,  which  saves  the  labor  of  taking  home 
the  crop  and  fetching  back  the  manure.  The  sheep  are  made 
the  manure  carriers  for  any  portion  of  the  land  on  which  it  is 
thought  desirable  to  apply  it.  Much  of  the  corn  crop  is  stacked 
in  the  distant  fields,  as  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  carry  it 
home  so  far,  with  the  despatch  necessary  in  harvest  operations. 
In  many  cases  it  is  thrashed  where  stacked,  a  traveling  steam- 


PARING  AND  BURNING.  315 

thrashing  machine  being  hired  for  the  purpose.  The  straw  is 
carried  out  and  spread  on  the  grass-lands  from  which  clover  hay 
had  been  cut  the  previous  year.  Only  a  small  proportion  of  the 
root  crop  is  carried  home  for  consumption  by  the  cattle,  the  num- 
ber of  which,  in  these  large  farms,  is  quite  inconsiderable."  * 

Sheep-folding,  and  paring  and  burning,  are  both  processes 
nearly  unknown  in  America,  and  which  will  probably  be  advan- 
tageously employed  in  some  situations  among  us. 

Paring  and  burning. — "All  soils,"  says  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  \ 
"that  contain  too  much  dead  vegetable  fibre,"  (such  as  the  sour 
black  soils  of  our  reclaimed  swamps,)  "and  all  such  as  contain 
their  earthy  constituents  in  an  impalpable  state  of  division,  such 
as  stiff  clays  and  marls,  are  improved  by  burning."  It  is  there- 
fore a  common  practice  in  the  stiff-clay  districts  as  well  as  upon 
the  downs  of  England,  the  effect  being  to  render  a  heavy  soil 
light,  friable,  porous  and  highly  absorbent.  It  increases  the  effi- 
ciency of  drains  (by  letting  water  more  rapidly  into  them),  and, 
being  more  friable,  the  land  works  better  and  at  less  expense. 
It  further  promotes  vegetation  by  converting  into  soluble  matters 
available  to  plants,  vegetable  remains ;  which,  in  consequence  of 
the  usually  wet,  impervious  nature  of  the  soil,  have  become,  as  it 
were,  indigestible,  and  therefore  inert  and  useless.  It  is  also  ad- 
vocated as  being  destructive  of  the  roots  and  seeds  of  weeds ;  of 
insects,  their  larvae  and  eggs ;  and,  as  is  pretty  clearly  demon- 
strated, it  enables  land  to  bear  the  same  crop  in  quicker  succes- 
sion, by  its  supposed  effect  upon  the  exudations  left  by  former 
crops.f  In  executing  the  process,  the  surface,  generally  to  the 
depth  of  three  inches,  is  plowed  or  pared  up  (there  are  instru- 
ments made  on  purpose  for  it)  and  allowed  to  dry.  It  is  then 
1  thoroughly  harrowed  and  made  fine ;  and  in  the  downs  the  vege- ( 

*  CAIRO. 

t  Report  by  practical  farmers  in  Suffolk,  1846. 


316  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

table  matter  is  racked  out  so  far  as  practicable,  and  thrown  into 
small  heaps ;  a  little  earth  is  thrown  over  these  and  they  are 
fired,  the  grass  forming  the  fuel.  The  remainder  of  the  earth 
which  has  been  plowed  up  is  shoveled  on  as  soon,  and  to  as 
great  a  depth,  as  it  can  be  without  danger  of  extinguishing  the 
fire. 

In  the  clay  districts,  and  where  there  is  much  timber  growing, 
brushwood  is  laid  in  rows,  and  the  pared  soil  heaped  over  it,  the 
sod  being  thrown  as  far  as  possible  nearest  the  fuel,  and  the  fine 
earth  thrown  over  all  to  prevent  too  quick  a  fire. 

The  burnt  soil  is  spread  again  over  the  field  and  plowed  in. 
The  first  crop  following  is  usually  turnips.  The  cost  of  the  opera- 
tion is  reckoned,  in  Suffolk  (where  it  is  called  denturing),  to  be 
only  about  four  dollars  an  acre,  of  which  one-third  is  for  fuel. 
Supposing  the  expense  of  labor  to  be  doubled  and  that  of  fuel 
halved  for  the  United  States,  it  may  be  expected  to  cost  us  six 
dollars  an  acre.  The  effect,  probably,  is  never  lost  to  the  land ; 
but  in  those  parts  of  England  where  it  is  most  practiced,  I  be- 
lieve it  is  usual  to  repeat  the  operation  once  in  about  seven  years. 
By  feeding  turnips  upon  the  ground  the  autumn  following  the 
burning,  it  is  sufficiently  stocked  with  manure  to  require  no 
further  application  during  the  course.  Caird  mentions  crossing  a 
field  in  which  this  had  been  repeated,  burning  every  seven  years, 
and  no  other  application  of  manure  than  what  arose  from  the  con- 
sumption of  its  own  produce  on  the  ground  being  made,  without 
any  diminution  of  crops  for  fifty  years. 

On  the  downs,  however,  paring  and  burning  is  not  usually  re- 
sorted to,  except  at  the  first  breaking  up  of  the  original  soil,  fer- 
tility being  afterwards  sustained  by  bones  and  guano,  or  by  feed- 
ing off  the  crops  of  herbage  at  the  end  of  every  rotation  by 
sheep ;  of  which  operation,  common  in  all  parts  of  Great  Britain, 
I  shall  presently  speak. 


SHEEP-FOLDING.  317 


In  land  greatly  infested  with  weeds,  or  grubs  or  wire-worm,  in 
black,  peaty  soils,  and  in  many  stiff-clay  soils,  particularly  where 
they  are  to  be  prepared  for  gardens  or  orchards,  I  have  no  doubt 
paring  and  burning  often  might  be  profitably  performed  in  the 
United  States.  In  thin,  sandy  soils  it  is  likely  to  be  injurious. 
If  the  soil  has  not  a  pretty  thick  old  sward,  it  will  be  best  to  sow 
some  grain  crop  upon  it  the  year  before  burning,  that  the  roots 
and  stubble  may  afford  fuel.  Old  pasture  will  be  most  readily 
burnt.  In  England,  clay  is  sometimes  charred  in  pits,  and,  after 
being  mashed  fine,  applied  broadcast  or  drilled  with  seeds,  as  a 
manure.  It  is  sometimes  found  surprisingly  effective,  probably 
owing  to  its  absorbent  quality ;  but  it  is  an  expensive  operation, 
and  has  not  generally  proved  profitable. 

Sheep-folding  is  the  practice  of  enriching  a  portion  of  ground 
by  confining  sheep  upon  it.  Thus,  in  Wiltshire,  the  flocks  are 
pastured  during  the  day  upon  the  "beak-land,"  and  kept  at  night 
upon  the  comparatively  small  portion  of  ground  which  it  is  desired 
to  manure,  and  which  thus  receives  the  benefit  of  the  fertilizing 
waste  of  the  food  obtained  from  the  pasture  ground ;  or  a  portion 
of  a  field  of  sainfoin,  or  clover,  or  turnips,  is  enclosed  by  a  mov- 
able fence  (either  iron  or  wooden  hurdles  or  strong  hempen  nets 
fastened  to  stakes),  and  the  sheep  confined  to  it  until  they  have 
eaten  the  crop  clean  (they  will  eat  the  turnip  in  the  ground), 
and  left  upon  it  a  large  amount  of  excrement ;  the  fence  is  then 
moved  on  to  a  fresh  spot,  where  the  process  is  repeated,  and  so 
on  day  after  day  until  the  required  space  has  been  traveled  over. 

Sometimes  naked  ground  or  stubble-land  is  thus  served ;  tur- 
nips or  sainfoin  being  brought  from  where  they  grow  and  fed 
within  the  hurdles,  which  are  daily  moved  on  a  bit.  Latterly, 
movable  sheds  with  slatted  floors,  running  upon  plank  railroads, 
which  are  easily  taken  up  and  relayed  across  the  turnip  fields, 
have  been  tried.  The  object  is  to  avoid  driving  carts  to  take  the 


318  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

crop  off,  or  the  treading  of  the  sheep  to  feed  it,  on  the  ground, 
upon  heavy  clay  soils,  in  which  the  pressure  of  these  operations 
must  be  very  objectionable.  Twelve  sheep  are  kept  in  each 
shed-car,  and  the  turnips  pulled  and  thrown  into  them.  The  ex- 
pense of  drawing  off  the  crop  and  returning  the  manure  is  avoid- 
ed, and  the  sheep  have  shelter  and  a  dry  bed,  while  the  ordinary 
custom  subjects  them  to  danger  of  foot-rot  and  other  diseases, 
and  also  must  be  attended  with  some  waste  of  the  crop. 


WALLOP.  319 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

An  Arcadian  Hamlet  —  Out  of  the  World,  but  not  Beyond  the  Reach  of  the 
Yankee  Peddler  —  The  Cottages  of  the  Downs  —  Grout  and  Cobble-stones 

—  Character  of  .the  Laboring  Class  of  the  Downs — Want  of  Curiosity  — 
Old  Stockbridge,   Winchester,  William  of  Wykeham— His  Legacy  to 
Wayfarers  —  The  Cathedral  —  Some  Remarks  on  Architectural  Situation 

—  Search  for  Lodgings  —  Motherly  Kindness  —  Railroad  Mismanagement 
—Waterloo  Day  at  Portsmouth. 

TT7ALLOP,  where  we  spend  the  night,  is  a  most  poetical  ham- 
let, so  hidden  by  trees  that,  as  we  came  over  the  downs, 
even  when  within  a  few  moments'  walk  of  it,  we  had  to  inquire 
where  it  was.  It  consists  of  a  double  row  of  cottages  some  miles 
long,  on  the  bank  of  a  cool,  silvery  brook,  at  which,  when  we  first 
saw  it,  we  rushed  to  drink  like  camels  in  the  desert ;  and  the 
water  was  indeed  delicious.  It  is  exceedingly  quiet.  As  we  sit 
in  our  window  at  the  "  Lower  George,"  we  can  hear  nothing  but 
the  rippling  of  the  brook,  which  threads  its  way  through  the  trees 
and  among  the  cottages  across  the  street,  the  rustling  of  the  trees 
in  the  gentle  air,  the  peeping  of  chickens,  and  the  chirping  of 
small  birds.  There  is  a  blacksmith's  shop,  but  no  smoke  ascends 
from  it,  and  the  anvil  is  silent.  There  is  a  grist-mill  further 
down ;  there  is  a  little,  square,  heavy-roofed  school-house,  and 
there  is  a  church  and  graveyard.  But  there  is  no  stage-coach, 


320  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

no  public  conveyance,  not  even  a  carrier's  cart  by  which  we 
might  send  on  our  packs,  runs  through  or  from  the  hamlet.  Yet 
this  is  a  good  inn,  clean,  and  well  provided ;  we  have  a  large 
room,  comfortably  furnished ;  the  landlord  seems  to  understand 
what  a  tired  traveler  wants  ;  and  down  stairs,  in  the  parlor,  there 
is — what  do  you  think? 


"IMPROVED    BRASS   CLOCK, 

MANUFACTURED  BY 

:.     WELTOX,    TERRYVILLE,     CONNECTICUT, 
( Warranted,  if  well  used.") 


It  cost  twelve  shillings,  and  was  a  capital  time-piece,  only  lately 
it  had  got  a-going  too  fast,  and  the  landlord  wished  Mr.  Welton 
would  send  his  man  and  have  it  fixed  according  to  contract.  It 
marked  the  hour  rather  behind  our  watches,  but  as  it  was  the 
liveliest  thing  in  the  village,  we  have  set  it  back  to  the  landlord's 
notion,  lengthened  the  pendulum,  and  oiled  the  "  pallet,"  all  to 
save  the  reputation  of  Mr.  Welton  and  the  universal  Yankee 
nation. 

The  cottages  here  are  generally  built  of  a  chalk  grout,  some- 
times with  lines  of  flint  stones  for  ornament.  In  others,  flint 
pebbles  are  laid  regularly  in  courses  set  in  grout,  like  the  "  cob- 
ble-stone houses"  in  western  New  York;  in  others,  grout,  and 
stones  set  in  grout,  alternately ;  or  brick  and  stone  in  grout,  in 
alternate  tiers  a  foot  thick.  The  village  fences  and  the  stock- 
yard walls  about  here  are  also  made  of  white  grout,  very  thick, 
and  with  a  coping  of  thatch.  The  thatch  on  the  cottages  is  very 
heavy,  sometimes  two  feet  deep. 


STOCKBRIDGE—  WINCHESTER.  321 

The  laboring  class  upon  the  downs  have  generally  a  quiet, 
sleepy,  stupid  expression,  with  less  evident  viciousness  and  licen- 
tious coarseness  of  character,  and  with  more  simplicity,  frankness, 
and  good-nature  than  those  we  have  previously  been  among. 
The  utter  want  of  curiosity  and  intelligent  observation,  among  a 
people  living  so  retired  from  the  busy  world,  is  remarkable.  We 
have  met  but  two  to-day  whose  minds  showed  any  inclination  to 
move  of  their  own  accord :  one  of  them  was  a*  pensioned  soldier 
who  had  served  at  Halifax,  and  who  made  inquiries  about  several 
old  comrades  who  had  deserted  and  escaped  to  "  the  States,"  and 
whom  he  seemed  to  suppose  we  must  have  seenr  as  we  were 
Yankees ;  the  other,  an  old  woman  in  Newtown-Tawney,  at 
whose  cottage  we  stopped  to  get  water ;  she  had  at  first  taken  us, 
as  we  came  one  after  the  other  over  the  stile,  for  a  "  detachment 
of  the  Rifles,"  and  on  discovering  her  error  was  quite  anxious  to 
know  what  we  were  after,  what  we  carried  in  our  knapsacks,  etc. 

June  18tk. 

In  the  morning  we  walked  from  Wallop  through  Stockbridge 
to  Winchester.  A  down-land  district  still,  as  yesterday,  but  a 
well-traveled  road,  with  houses,  inns,  and  guide-boards ;  more 
frequent  plantations  of  trees  and  more  cultivated  land,  yet  but 
little  of  it  fenced,  and  the  sheep  restrained  from  crops  by  shep- 
herds and  dogs.  Since  we  left  Salisbury  we  have  seen  but  three 
cows,  each  of  which  was  tethered  or  led  by  a  woman  or  child. 
We  have  seen  no  donkeys  for  the  last  hundred  miles. 

Stockbridge  is  a  small  village  of  one  wide  street,  with  two  clear 
streams  and  a  canal  crossing  it,  the  surface  of  the  ground  a  dead 
flat ;  all  as  unlike  its  Massachusetts  namesake  as  it  is  to  a  Paw- 
nee village.  We  saw  some  fine  horses  near  here. 

Winchester — a  name  we  remember  as  that  of  the  school-place 
of  many  a  good  man — is  an  interesting  old  town  in  a  cleft  of  the 
21 


322  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

downs.  Those  who  have  heard  Mr.  Emerson's  lecture  upon 
England  will  remember  it  also  as  the  town  of  "  William  of 
Wykeham? 

We  visited  the  cathedral,  the  college,  and  other  notable  insti- 
tutions and  monuments,  and  demanded  and  received  our  share  of 
the  legacy  bequeathed  by  William  of  Wykeham,  five  hundred 
years  ago,  to  all  wayfarers  passing  by — a  generous  slice  of  good 
bread,  and  a  draught  of  ale,  served  in  an  ancient  horn.  There  is 
certainly  no  humbug  about  it,  and  the  good  bishop's  hospitable 
will,  in  this  particular,  is  yet  as  sincerely  executed  as  if  by  serv- 
ants under  his  own  eye.  Mr.  Emerson  was,  nevertheless,  unfor- 
tunate in  his  eloquent  use  of  this  circumstance  to  illustrate  the 
simple  honesty  of  English  character,  and  the  permanence  and 
trustworthiness  of  English  institutions ;  for  it  appears  that,  not- 
withstanding substantial  bread  and  unadulterated  beer,  this  is  but 
the  cleanliness  of  the  cup  and  platter,  and  that  in  the  real  and 
worthy  legacy  which  the  far-reaching  piety  of  the  good  prelate 
left  to  the  future  of  England,  there  is  much  rottenness.  Gener- 
ally, the  means  which  the  piety  of  Englishmen  of  former  genera- 
tions bequeathed,  for  furnishing  to  the  poor  aliment  of  mind, 
have  been  notoriously  diverted  to  the  emolument  and  support,  in 
luxurious  sinecures,  of  a  few  individuals,  whom,  but  for  the 
association  of  their  titles  with  religion,  loyalty,  law,  and  order,  and 
the  poor  conscience-salve  that  it  is  the  system  and  not  they  who 
are  wrong,  every  man  would  know  for  hypocrites,  liars,  swindlers ; 
more  detestable  than  American  repudiators,  French  sycophants, 
or  Irish  demagogues. 

The  cathedral  is  low  and  heavy,  covering  much  ground ;  and 
exhibits,  curiously  intenvorked,  the  styles  of  Saxon,  Norman,  and 
early  and  later  English  architects.  I  again  wrote  in  my  note- 
book, "unimpressive ;"  but  now,  after  two  years,  I  find  that  my 
mind  was  strongly  impressed  by  it ;  for  there  returns  to  me,  as  I 


RAILROAD  MISMANAGEMENT.  323 

very  vividly  remember  its  appearance,  a  feeling  of  quiet,  wholly 
uncritical  veneration,  of  which  I  believe  a  part  must  be  due  to 
the  breadth  of  green  turf  of  the  graveyard,  and  deep  shade  of  the 
old  trees  in  which  it  is  upreared.  There  were  scarcely  any 
edifices  that  I  saw  in  Europe  which  produced  in  me  the  slightest 
thrill  of  such  emotion  from  sublimity  as  I  have  often  had  in  con- 
templation of  the  ocean,  or  of  mountains,  that  it  was  not  plainly 
due  less  to  the  architectural  style,  than  to  the  connection  and 
harmony  of  the  mass  with  the  ground  upon  which  it  was  placed. 
The  only  church  that  stopped  me  suddenly  with  a  sensation  of 
deep  solemnity,  as  I  came  unexpectedly  under  it,  as  it  were,  in 
turning  the  corner  of  a  street,  was  one  that  stood  upon  a  bold, 
natural  terrace,  and  in  which  the  lines  of  the  angles  of  a  heavy 
tower  were  continuous  and  unbroken  from  base  to  summit. 

At  half-past  six  we  took  seats  in  the  second-class  cars  for 
Portsmouth,  and  were  favored  with  a  specimen  of  a  corporation's 
disregard  for  the  convenience  of  the  public,  and  the  accomplish- 
ment of  their  own  promises,  that  a  New  Jerseyman  would  almost 
have  growled  at.  There  was  a  full  hour's  unnecessary  detention 
at  the  way-stations,  and  after  having  arrived  near  the  terminus 
that  much  behind  the  time-tables,  the  tickets  were  collected  and 
the  doors  locked  upon  us,  and  we  were  kept  waiting  a  long  time 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  station-house.  Some  one  at  length  got 
out  at  the  windows,  but  was  sent  back  by  the  guard.  When  we 
requested  to  know  what  was  the  objection  to  our  leaving,  we  were 
answered  it  was  against  the  rules  of  the  company  for  any  passen- 
gers to  be  allowed  upon  the  ground  without  the  station.  After 
waiting  some  time  longer,  we  rose  in  numbers  too  strong  for  the 
guards,  who,  however,  promised  that  we  should  be  prosecuted  for 
trespass,  and  made  our  escape.  I  may  say,  in  passing,  that  the 
speed  upon  the  English  roads  is,  on  an  average,  not  better  than 
on  ours.  It  is  commonly  only  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  an 


324  AX  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

hour.  The  express  trains,  however,  upon  the  main  lines,  run 
usually  as  fast  as  fifty  miles  an  hour,  sometimes  sixty.  For  the 
accommodation,  comfort,  and  advantage  of  all  but  those  who 
choose  and  can  afford  to  pay  well,  their  railroad  system  is  inferior 
to  ours. 

It  was  "  Waterloo  Day,"  and  there  had  been  a  review  of  the 
forces  at  Portsmouth,  before  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Prince 
Albert ;  the  Queen  had  been  off  the  harbor  in  her  yacht,  and 
received  a  salute ;  there  had  been  a  balloon  ascension,  and  a 
carousal  with  long  speeches.  There  was  to  be  an  illumination 
yet,  and  the  town  was  full — some  of  the  streets  packed  with  sol- 
diers and  sailors  and  women.  We  spent  several  hours  trying  to 
get  lodgings ;  every  hotel,  inn,  tavern,  and  lodging-house,  high 
and  low,  was  full.  The  best  thing  that  kindness  or  covetousness 
could  be  induced  to  offer,  was  room  to  lay  upon  a  carpet  on  the 
floor,  and  this  nowhere  that  we  thought  it  likely  we  should  be 
allowed  to  sleep.  We  got  supper  at  a  small  inn,  and  the  landlady 
informed  us  frankly  that  she  charged  us  twice  as  much  for  it  as 
she  usually  would,  because  it  was  "  holiday." 

It  was  late  at  night  when,  by  advice  of  policemen  and  favor  of 
sentinels,  we  had  passed  out  through  a  series  of  ramparts,  and 
were  going  up  a  broad  street  of  the  adjoining  town  of  Portsea. 
"  Good-night,  my  dear,"  we  heard  a  kindly-toned  voice ;  and  a 
woman  closed  a  door,  and,  after  walking  on  a  moment,  ascended 
the  steps  to  another.  "  Could  you  be  good  enough,  madam,"  one 
of  us  took  the  liberty  of  inquiring,  "  to  tell  us  of  any  house  in 
this  vicinity  where  we  should  be  likely  to  obtain  lodging  for  the 
night?" 

"  No — deai'  me  ! — who  are  you  ? " 

••  We  are  strangers  in  the  town  ;  travelers,  who  reached  here 
this  evening,  and  we  have  been  looking  for  several  hours  to  find 
some  place  where  we  could  sleep,  but  all  the  inns  are  full." 


A  HOLIDAY  NIGHT.  325 


"  Come  here ;  let  me  look  at  you.  You  are  young  men,  are 
you  not  ?  come  up  to  me,  you  need  not  be  afraid  —  yes,  I  see ; 
youths"  (we  had  caps  on,  which  is  unusual  in  England  except 
for  school-boys).  "Why,  poor  youths,  I  am  sorry  for  you  — 
strangers  —  you  wait  here,  and  I  will  call  my  servant  and  see  if 
she  does  not  think  she  can  find  where  you  can  get  a  bed." 

She  then  went  in,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned  with  a  maid 
whom  she  called  Susan,  to  whom  she  repeated  what  we  had  said ; 
and  then  inquired  further  what  was  our  business,  were  we  "  trav- 
eling with  the  consent  of  our  parents,"  etc.,  and  remarked  — 
"  Your  parents  are  reputable  people,  I  think :  —  yes — yes — dear 
me ! — yes — poor  youths.  Yes,  I  will  find  beds  for  you.  You 
are  good  youths,  and  Susan  shall — but  come  in :  you  will  sit  in 
the  parlor,  and  my  servant,  Susan,  shall  sit  with  you  a  few  min- 
utes, and  I  will  see.  Come  in,  come  in,  good  youths." 

While  we  remained  in  the  parlor,  it  was  infinitely  droll  to  hear 
the  kind  old  woman  talking  with  another  in  the  next  room  about 
the  safety  and  propriety  of  lodging  us.  "  I  have  known  the 
world,  and  I  cannot  be  deceived :  these  are  good  youths." 

It  was  at  length  concluded  that  if  we  would  each  of  us  pay  a 
shilling  ("  and  then  we  could  give  whatever  we  liked  besides  to 
Susan"),  and  if  we  would  be  willing  to  have  our  doors  locked  on 
the  outside,  we  should  be  provided  then  and  there  with  beds. 
The  old  woman  then  came  in  again  to  see  us,  and  with  great 
severity  reexamined  us,  and  finally  informed  us  that  we  were  to 
spend  the  night  in  her  house.  She  then  became  exceedingly 
kind  again,  asked  much  about  our  parents  and  America,  and  at 
length  asked  us,  with  a  whimpering  laugh,  as  if  she  feared  how 
we  would  take  it,  but  begged  that  it  might  be  considered  a  joke — 
"  We  wouldn't  be  offended  if  our  doors  should  be  locked  on  the 
outside?" 


326  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XLVEL 

The  Deceit  of  Descriptions  of  Scenery — The  Soul  of  a  Landscape  —  The 
Isle  of  Wight,  its  Characteristics  —  Appropriate  Domestic  Architecture  — 
Genial  Climate  — Tropical  Verdure  —  The  Cliffs  of  Albion— Osborne  — 
The  Royal  Villa  —  Country  Life  of  the  Royal  Family  —  Agricultural  In- 
clination and  Rural  Tastes  — The  Royal  Tenantry 

HPHERE  is  always  a  strong  temptation  upon  the  traveler  to  en- 
•*•  deavor  to  so  describe  fine  scenery,  and  the  feelings  -which  it 
has  occasioned  him,  that  they  may  be  reproduced  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  his  friends.  Judging  from  my  own  experience,  this  pur- 
pose always  fails.  I  have  never  yet  seen  anything  celebrated  in 
scenery,  of  which  I  had  previously  obtained  a  correct  conception. 
Certain  striking,  prominent  points,  that  the  power  of  language 
has  been  most  directed  to  the  painting  of,  almost  invariably  dis- 
appoint, and  seem  little  and  commonplace,  after  the  exaggerated 
forms  which  have  been  brought  before  the  mind's  eye.  Beauty, 
grandeur,  impressiveness  in  any  M'ay,  from  scenery,  is  not  often 
to  be  found  in  a  few  prominent,  distinguishable  features,  but  in 
the  manner  and  the  unobserved  materials  with  which  these  are 
connected  and  combined.  Clouds,  lights,  states  of  the  atmos- 
phere, and  circumstances  that  we  cannot  always  detect,  affect  all 
landscapes,  and  especially  landscapes  in  which  the  vicinity  of  a 


THE  ISLE  OF  WIGHT.  327 

body  of  water  is  an  element,  much  more  than  we  are  often  aware. 
So  it  is  that  the  impatient  first  glance  of  the  young  traveler,  or 
the  impertinent  critical  stare  of  the  old  tourist,  is  almost  never 
satisfied,  if  the  honest  truth  be  admitted,  in  what  it  has  been  led 
to  previously  imagine.  I  hare  heard  "Niagra  is  a  mill-dam," 
"Rome  is  a  humbug." 

The  deep  sentiments  of  Nature  that  we  sometimes  seem  to 
have  been  made  confident  of,  when  among  the  mountains,  or  on 
the  moors  or  the  ocean — even  those  of  man  wrought  out  in  archi- 
tecture and  sculpture  and  painting,  or  of  man  working  in  unison 
with  Nature,  as  sometimes  in  the  English  parks,  on  the  Rhine, 
and  here  on  the  Isle  of  Wight — such  revealings  are  beyond 
words  ;  they  never  could  be  transcribed  into  note-books  and  dia- 
ries, and  so  descriptions  of  them  become  caricatures,  and  when 
we  see  them,  we  at  first  say  we  are  disappointed  that  we  find 
not  the  monsters  we  were  told  of. 

The  greater  part  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  is  more  dreary,  desolate, 
bare  and  monotonous,  than  any  equal  extent  of  land  you  prob- 
ably ever  saw  in  America — would  be,  rather,  if  it  were  not  that 
you  are  rarely  out  of  sight  of  the  sea ;  and  no  landscape,  of  which 
that  is  a  part,  ever  can  be  without  variety  and  ever-changing  in- 
terest. It  is,  in  fact,  down-land,  in  the  interior,  exactly  like  that 
I  described  in  Wiltshire,  and  sometimes  breaking  down  into 
such  bright  dells  as  I  there  told  of.  But  on  the  south  shore  it  is 
rocky,  craggy ;  and  after  you  have  walked  through  a  rather  dull 
country,  though  pleasing  on  the  whole,  for  hours  after  landing, 
you  come  gradually  to  where  the  majesty  of  vastness,  peculiar  to 
the  downs  and  the  ocean,  alternates  or  mingles  with  dark,  pictur- 
esque, rugged  ravines,  chasms  and  water-gaps,  grand  rocks, 
and  soft,  warm,  smiling,  inviting  dells  and  dingles ;  and,  withal, 
there  is  a  strange  and  fascinating  enrichment  of  foliage,  more 
deep,  graceful  and  luxuriant,  than  I  ever  saw  before.  All  this 


328  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

district  is  thickly  inhabited,  and  yet  so  well  covered  with  verdure, 
or  often  so  tastefully  appropriate — quiet,  cosy,  ungenteel,  yet 
elegant — are  the  cottages,  that  they  often  add  to,  rather  than  in- 
sult and  destroy,  the  natural  charm  of  their  neighborhood.  I 
ain  sorry  to  say,  that  among  the  later  erections  there  are  a  num- 
ber of  strong  exceptions  to  this  remark. 

In  this  paradise  the  climate,  by  favor  of  its  shelter  of  hills  on 
the  north,  and  the  equalizing  influence  of  the  ocean  on  the  south, 
is,  perhaps,  the  most  equable  and  genial  in  the  northern  tem- 
perate zone.  The  mercury  does  not  fall  as  low  in  winter  as  at 
Rome ;  deciduous  trees  lose  their  verdure  but  for  a  brief  inter- 
val ;  greensward  is  evergreen ;  tender-roses,  fuschias.  and  the 
dark,  glossy  shrubs  of  Canaan  and  of  Florida,  feel  themselves  at 
home,  and  flourish  through  the  winter. 

Where  the  chalky  downs  reach  the  shore  without  an  inter- 
vening barrier  of  rock,  or  a  gradual  sloping  descent,  they  are 
broken  off  abruptly  and  precipitously ;  and  thus  are  formed  the 
"white  cliffs  of  Albion,"  and  a  coast  scenery  with  which,  for 
grandeur,  there  is  nothing  on  our  Atlantic  shore  that  will  in  the 
least  compare :  notwithstanding  which,  and  although  they  really 
are  often  higher  than  our  church-steeples  and  monuments — the 
familiar  standards  with  which  we  compare  their  number  of  feet 
—  they  have  not  the  stupendous  effect  upon  the  mind  that  I  had 
always  imagined  that  they  must  have. 

We  were  rambling  for  the  greater  part  of  two  days  upon  the 
island,  spending  a  night  near  Black-Gang-Chine.  Returning, 
we  passed  near  Osborne,  a  private  estate  purchased  some  years 
since  by  the  Queen,  upon  which  she  has  had  erected  a  villa,  said 
to  be  an  adaptation  of  the  Grecian  style  to  modern  tastes  and 
habits,  but  of  which  nothing  is  to  be  seen  from  without  the 
grounds  but  the  top  of  a  lofty  campanile,  from  which  is  now  dis- 
played the  banner  with  the  royal  arms,  which  always  indicates 


THE  PR1XCE  TURNS  FARMER.  329 

the  presence  of  the  reigning  sovereign  of  Great  Britain.  It  is 
the  custom  of  the  royal  family,  when  here,  to  live  in  as  retired 
and  unstately  a  way  as  they  can  ever  be  permitted  to.  The 
Prince  himself  turns  farmer,  and  engages  with  much  ardor  in 
improving  the  agricultural  capabilities  of  the  soil,  much  of  which 
was  not  originally  of  a  fertile  character,  but  by  thorough  drainage, 
and  judicious  tillage  and  manuring,  is  now  producing  greatly  en- 
larged crops.  The  Prince  is  well  known  as  a  successful  breeder 
and  stock-farmer,  having  taken  several  prizes  for  fat  cattle,  etc., 
at  the  great  annual  shows.  Her  Majesty  personally  interests 
herself  in  the  embellishment  of  the  grounds  and  the  extensive 
oak  plantations  which  are  being  made,  and  is  in  the  habit  of  driv- 
ing herself  a  pair  of  ponies,  unattended,  through  the  estate,  study- 
ing the  comfort  of  her  little  cottage  tenantry,  and  in  every  way 
she  can  trying  to  seem  to  herself  the  good-wife  of  a  respectable 
country  gentleman. 


330  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XLYIII. 

The  Queen's  Yacht  —  Yachts  of  the  R.  Y.  Club,  their  Build  and  Rig  —  Com- 
parison with  American  Yachts  and  Pilot-Boats  —  Seamanship  —  Cut  of 
Sails  —  The  Navy-Yard  at  Portsmouth  —  Gun-Boats  —  Steamers  — Eve- 
ning at  Portsea  —  Curiosity  —  About  Boasting  and  some  English  Char- 
acteristics—  Conversation  with  a  Shopkeeper  on  the  "  Glory  of  England." 

TN  crossing  the  Solent,  on  our  return  to  Portsmouth,  we  saw 
•*-  the  Queen's  yacht,  and  passed  through  a  squadron  of  the  Roy- 
al Yacht-Club  yachts.  The  former  was  a  large,  heavily  ham- 
pered, brig-rigged  steamer,  with  great  plate-glass  ports,  and  a 
large  oak-colored  house  on  deck,  less  seaman-like  in  appearance 
and  more  in  the  American  style  than  most  English  steam-vessels. 
The  yachts  were  as  sweet  craft  as  I  can  imagine,  most  of  them 
over  two  hundred  tons  in  burden  and  schooner-rigged;  but, 
whether  one  or  two-masted,  spreading  more  canvas  for  the  length 
of  their  hulls  than  I  ever  saw  before.  They  were  all  painted 
black,  and  their  ornaments  and  deck-arrangements  struck  me  as 
being  more  simple,  snug  and  seaman-like  than  those  of  most  of 
our  Union  Clubs'  yachts.  The  reverse  is  the  case  aloft.  My 
guess  was  that  they  would  be  more  than  a  match  for  anything  on 
our  side  in  light  winds,  but  that  in  bad  weather,  particularly  if 
working  to  windward,  they  would  do  nothing  against  a  New 
York  pilot-boat.  Like  all  the  English  small  craft,  when  going 


COMPARISON  OF  YACHTS.  331 

before  the  wind,  the  cutters  and  schooners  always  hauled  up  the 
tack  of  the  mainsail,  that  the  wind  might  draw  under  it  to  fill  the 
foresail  and  jib.  Another  reason  given  for  it  is,  that  the  wind, 
drawing  downward  from  the  belly  of  the  sail,  tends  to  make  the 
vessel  bury,  and  by  lifting  the  tack  she  is  made  more  buoyant. 
It  is  never  done  in  America. 

This  was  before  the  race  in  which  the  "America"  beat  the 
English  yachts.  I  suspect  that  her  superior  sailing  qualities 
were  more  owing  to  her  peculiarities  of  rig,  the  cut  and  material 
of  her  sails,  and  to  seamanship,  than  to  the  model  of  her  hull.  I 
have  no  doubt  \re  can  still  build  and  rig  a  vessel  that  will  be  her 
superior.  While  the  English  stick  to  flax  canvas,  long  gaffs, 
heavy  top-sails  and  graceful  curves,  I  do  not  think  there  is  any 
danger  that  they  will.  When  the  Englishman  is  close-hauled 
writh  his  boom  as  near  amidships  as  he  can  get  it,  his  long  gaff 
will  swing  off  so  far  that  there  must  always  be  a  considerable 
part  of  his  canvas  in  the  peak  that  actually  retards  more  than 
it  assists  him.  The  Englishman  thinks  much  of  beauty  of  form 
in  his  sails,  but  his  standard  of  beauty  is  arbitrary — a  fashion. 
To  my  eye,  without  regard  to  the  primary  beauty  of  utility,  the 
simplicity  of  the  cut  of  our  sails  is  much  more  agreeable. 

On  the  deck  of  the  flag-schooner,  we  saw  the  commodore  of  the 
Club  (an  Earl),  a  gray-haired  old  gentleman,  who  sat  in  an  arm- 
chair, reading  from  a  newspaper  to  some  ladies. 

On  reaching  Portsmouth  we  took  a  boat  to  visit  the  navy-yard, 
within  the  walls  of  which,  being  foreigners,  not  having  a  pass, 
we  could  not  enter.  Our  boatmen  told  us  that  if  we  chose  to 
enter  we  should  not  be  challenged,  as  no  one  would  suspect  us 
as  being  other  than  Englishmen,  and  that  the  prohibition  was  a 
silly  old  form  that  prevented  no  one  from  seeing  the  yard  who 
wished  to  enough  to  lie  for  it. 


332  .4.V  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

The  number  of  vessels  (of  the  navy)  in  port  was  much  less 
than  I  had  anticipated  seeing,  and  most  of  these  were  hulks,  or 
"advance  ships"  (with  guns  and  water-tanks  on  board.)  Those 
we  went  on  board  of  (one  of  them  ready  for  sea),  seemed  to  me, 
compared  with  ours  of  the  same  class,  inferior  in  all  respects, 
except  it  might  be  in  some  novelties  in  their  rigging,  of  the  effi- 
ciency of  which  I  could  not  judge.  The  extent  to  which  wire- 
rigging  was  employed  in  some  surprised  me.  "We  saw  four  gun- 
boats (large  barges  with  a  swivel-gun  in  the  bow),  manned  by 
the  workmen  of  the  yard,  whose  awkward  evolutions  were  very 
amusing.  The  landsmen  working  in  the  yard  are  divided  into 
two  squads,  one  of  which  alternately  with  the  other,  is  drilled  in 
the  Jefferson  plan  of  harbor  defense  two  evenings  in  each  week. 
They  are  dressed  in  a  simple  uniform,  and  armed  as  boarders. 

There  were  more  steamers  in  the  harbor  than  in  all  our  navy. 


In  the  evening  we  called  at  the  old  lady's  in  Portsea,  and  re- 
ceived from  Susan  some  clothes,  which  she  had  undertaken  to 
get  washed  for  us,  and  a  watch  which  my  brother  had  accident- 
ally left  in  his  bed-room.  The  kind  old  woman  received  us  cordi- 
ally, apologized  again  for  the  prudence  which  had  led  her  to 
lock  us  in,  and  introduced  us  to  some  friends.  Of  their  simplicity 
and  curiosity,  as  shown  in  their  questioning  of  us,  I  might,  if  I 
chose  to  report  our  conversations,  give  as  amusing  a  picture  as 
English  travelers  enjoy  to  do,  of  that  of  those  they  meet  in  Ameri- 
can boarding-houses.  Of  fidgety  anxiety  lest  we  should  not  dis- 
cover that  everybody  and  everything  in  the  country  is  superior 
to  anybody  and  anything  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  which  so 
annoys  visitors  to  the  United  States,  I  must  confess  that  we  have 
seen  but  little  in  England.  With  the  poorer  class  of  English- 
men, patriotism  seems  to  have  been  starved  out.  If  they  ever 


ENGLISH  CHARACTPJRISTICS.  333 

speak  of  their  country's  greatness  and  prosperity,  it  is  as  a  ser- 
vant speaks  of  his  master's  wealth ;  they  would  see  it  become  a 
dependency  of  France  or  Russia  with  entire  indifference,  cer- 
tainly with  exultation  if  it  were  promised  them  that  wages  should 
be  higher  and  bread  cheaper  for  it.  Again,  the  Radicals  and 
men  of  earnest  religious  faith,  with  the  strongest  affection  to  their 
country,  are  in  the  habit  of  looking  much  at  what  is  wrong  and 
shameful  in  her  institutions  and  qualities,  and  of  comparing  them 
with  what  is  better  in  other  lands. 

Cultivated  and  large-minded  people  of  all  classes,  of  course,  in 
England  as  everywhere  else,  rise  above  prejudice  and  vanity, 
and  think  and  speak  fairly  and  frankly  equally  of  their  own  or 
foreign  states ;  of  such  eminently,  wre  recognize  the  Earl  of  Car- 
lisle and  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  and  of  such  are,  I  believe,  a  great 
number  of  the  higher  rank  of  commercial  men.  The  traditional 
self-complacency  of  an  Englishman,  as  an  Englishman,  is  more 
often  to  be  detected,  at  the  present  day,  by  some  unnecessary 
pains  he  will  take  to  point  out  to  you  deficiencies  and  defects  of 
a  trivial  character  in  the  article  or  institution  or  custom  you  are 
considering,  he  having  entire  confidence  that  in  contrast  with  that 
of  any  other  country  it  will  but  be  exalted  by  any  such  faint  dis- 
paragement of  it  as  is  possible.  Among  the  lower  class  in  towns, 
or  in  the  country,  those  who  have  been  servants,  or  in  some  way 
connected  with  or  dependent  on  wealthy  old  families,  there  is 
sometimes  to  be  found  the  most  ludicrously  absurd  old  Tory  ideas 
and  prejudices,  quite  in  character  with  John  Bull  of  the  farce ; 
but  the  best  specimens  of  it  that  I  have  seen  were  among  the 
smaller  sort  of  shopkeepers,  particularly  those  who  advertise 
tkemseves  to  be  under  the  patronage  of  some  noble  lady.  I  re- 
member one  that  we  encountered,  soom  after  we  resumed  our 
walks  in  England  after  we  had  been  on  the  Continent,  that 
amused  us  very  much  —  a  little,  fat,  florid,  bald-headed  John 


334  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

Gilpin  of  a  man.  He  was  wrapping  the  article  we  had  purchas- 
ed in  a  paper,  and,  while  we  waited,  asked, 

"Travelers,  gentlemen?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"On  foot  it  appears?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

«  Traveled  far  so,  might  I  ask  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes — a  number  of  hundred  miles." 

"Indeed — you  must  have  seen  a  good  bit  of  Old  England. 
Ever  was  on  the  Continent,  gentlemen?" 

"Yes." 

"  In  France,  it  might  be  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Anywhere  else  but  France?" 

"Yes — in  Holland,  Germany  and  Belgium." 

"Ah!  Gentlemen,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  now,  if  I  might 
be  so  bold,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  question,  just  one  question. 
I  haven't  been  myself,  you  see,  to  France  nor  to  Holland  nor  to 
those  other  countries,  but  I  have  read  of  them,  and  according  to 
the  best  sources  of  information  I  could  reach,  I  have  informed 
my  mind  about  them  and  formed  my  own  independent  opinion, 
you  see,  in  which  I  may  be  right,  of  course,  and  I  may  be  wrong, 
but  I  think  I'm  right.  And  I  have  had  a  coming  in  here  a 
many  of  traveling  gentlemen  like  you,  who  had  seen  all  those 
foreign  countries,  and  had  also  in  course  seen  England.  Well,  I 
always  asks  these  gentlemen  one  question  when  they  does  me  the 
honor,  and  they  have  always  been  so  good  as  to  answer  me,  and 
now  I  should  be  pleased  to  ask  you  the  same  question,  if  I  may 
be  so  bold.  Though,  to  be  sure,  I  can  imagine  what  you'll 
answer,  but  then  to  confirm  the  independent  conclusion  which  I 
had  arrived  at  from  my  own  reflections,  you  see,  and  for  edifica- 
tion— thank  you.  Now  then,  gentlemen." 


CONVERSATION  WITH  A  SHOPKEEPER.  335 

He  laid  the  parcel  on  the  counter,  and,  holding  it  firmly  with 
his  left  hand,  continued  to  tap  it  lightly  with  the  fore-finger  of 
the  other : 

"  So  it  appears,  gentlemen  (if  I  might  be  so  bold),  that  you 
have  wandered  far  and  near  over  the  face  of  the  inhabited  world, 
and  have  seen  many  foreign  parts  and  lands,  and  cast  your  lot 
among  other  peoples  and  nations,  that  all  thought  as  their  inherit- 
ances was  very  fine,  doubtless :  but  now,  gentlemen !  can  you 
say  on  candid  reflection — now  have  you  ever  seen  any  where's 
else,  for  instance,  any  castle  as  was  comparable  compared  to 
Winsor  Castle?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Or  any  park  like  unto  Winsor  Park,  in  foreign  parts  ?" 

«  No,  sir." 

"  Nor  any  country  of  them  all,  what,  on  the  whole,  take  her 
altogether,  taking  her  castles  and  parks,  also  her  towns  and  her 
rail'ays  and  station-houses,  her  forests  and  her  manufactures,  and 
her  coal  and  iron ;  her  church  and  her  constitution,  her  people 
and  her  horses,  and  such  like — did  you  ever,  in  all  your  wander- 
ings— taking  her  altogether  so — did  you  ever  now,  gentlemen — 
ever  see  any  place  exactly  like  your  own  country  after  all?" 

u  No,  indeed,  sir." 

" '  No,  indeed,  sir !'  I  know  you  didn't — you  hear  that?  'No, 
indeed,  sir' — and  so  say  you  all,  gentlemen?  and  so  say  you  all. 
Well,  then,  I  am  satisfied,  and  much  obliged  to  you,  gentlemen. 
There  isn't  none  of  the  foreign  principalities  that  is  like  this 
blessed  land  ;  and  that's  what  I  am  always  telling  them,  and  only 
goes  to  confirm  the  independent  conviction  which  I  had  previous- 
ly arrived  to  of  my  own  preliminaries.  Thank  you,  gentlemen ;" 
(handing  us  the  parcel;)  "good-morning.  I  wish  you  a  pleasant 
continuance  of  your  promenade  in  our  glorious  old  land." 


336  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Rural  Police  — The  " Anchor''  Inn  — The  Garden  — '-Old  Coaching 
Times  "  —  Heath  Land  —  A  Dreary  Landscape  —  Murder  and  a  High- 
way Adventure  —  Human  Vanity. 

Liphook,  June  20th. 

TT7ALKED  hither  from  Portsmouth  to-day.    For  twenty  miles 
the  road  is  through  a  hilly  chalk  country,  much  of  it  unen- 
closed downs,  generally  interesting,  and  the  walk  at  this  season 
agreeable. 

"We  had,  for  a  short  distance,  the  company  of  a  rural  police- 
man. He  had  his  quarters,  with  several  others,  in  a  small  cot- 
tage in  a  village,  was  paid  $4.70  a-week,  and  furnished  with 
three  suits  of  clothes  every  year — one  for  winter,  one  for  summer 
and  one  for  Sundays,  besides  gloves,  etc.  The  uniform  is  of 
blue  cloth,  of  a  simple,  semi-military  fashion.  He  said  no  one 
was  employed  in  the  force  who  was  less  than  six  feet  high,  and 
that  they  were  exercised  in  the  use  of  small-arms.  Of  duties 
he  seemed  to  have  no  definite  idea  himself,  but  was  ready  to  do 
anything  he  could  in  the  way  of  fighting  roguery,  when  he  should 
be  called  upon  by  his  officers.  The  only  crime  which  he  seemed 
to  apprehend  in  the  neighborhood  was  rick-burning — laborers 
who  were  discontented  and  envious,  or  who  had  for  any  reason 


"  OLD  COACHING  TIMES"  337 

become  angry  with  the  farmers  who  employed  them,  setting  fire 
to  their  stacks  of  grain.  This  was  common. 

We  spent  the  night  at  the  "Anchor"  a  good,  large,  old  inn, 
with  a  finely-shaven  plot  of  turf  and  well-kept  graveled  walks, 
and  a  good  vegetable  and  fruit  garden,  with  famous  gooseberry 
and  apple  bushes  (apples  on  dwarf  stocks),  in  the  rear.  The 
landlord,  a  bluff,  stout,  old  man,  a  little  while  ago  brought  ui  in 
samples  of  five  different  sorts  of  malt  liquor  that  he  had  in  his 
cellar.  They  vary  in  strength  in  the  proportions  from  8  to  32, 
and  somewhat  more  in  price. 

Before  the  railways,  thirty-two  four-horse  coaches  stopped  at 
this  house  daily,  besides  post-coaches,  which,  when  the  fleet  was 
about  to  sail  from  Portsmouth,  passed  through  the  village  "  like 
a  procession."  He  then  kept  one  hundred  horses,  and  had  usu- 
ally ten  postboys  to  breakfast,  who  had  been  left  during  the  night. 
Now,  but  one  coach  and  one  van  passed  through  the  town. 

June  2lst, 

Near  Liphook,  instead  of  the  broad,  bleak  chalk-downs,  with 
their  even  surface  of  spare  green  grass,  we  find  extensive  tracts 
of  a  most  sterile,  brown,  dry,  sandy  land,  sometimes  boggy 
(moory),  producing  even  more  scanty  pasturage  than  the  downs, 
but  with  scattered  tufts  of  heath  or  ling.  Most  of  this  is  in  com- 
mons, and  a  few  lean  sheep,  donkeys,  and  starveling  ponies  are 
earnestly  occupied  in  seeking  for  something  to  eat  upon  it.  Very 
little  of  it,  for  miles  that  we  have  passed  over,  is  enclosed  or 
improved,  except  that  there  are  extensive  plantations  of  trees. 
Timber  grows  slowly  upon  it ;  but  the  shade  of  the  foliage  and 
the  decay  of  leaves  so  improves  the  soil  that  it  is  worth  cultiva- 
ting after  its  removal.  It  is  also  improved  so  as  to  bear  tolerable 
crops,  by  paring-and-burning  and  sheep-folding — as  described  on 

the  downs  of  Wiltshire. 

22 


338  Ay  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

We  had  walked  half-a-dozen  miles  this  morning,  when  I  dis- 
covered I  had  lost  my  watch,  and  turned  back.  When  about 
three  miles  from  Liphook,  I  met  our  landlord  of  " The  Anchor" 
He  had  found  the  watch  in  my  room,  and  immediately  mounted 
a  horse,  and  rode  hard  to  overtake  us.  He  refused  any  compen- 
sation, unless  it  were  "  a  glass  of  grog  to  drink  my  health."  I 
had  happened  to  show  him  one  of  those  villainous  Spanish  quar- 
ters that  so  successfully  hold  their  place  against  our  legitimate 
currency,  which  I  had  had  left  in  my  pocket  on  leaving  New 
York,  and  he  said,  if  I  didn't  value  it,  he  would  be  glad  to  take 
it  as  a  keepsake  of  us.  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  always  remember 
us  as  the  three  gentlemen  who  had  the  good  taste  not  to  go  from 
Portsmouth  to  London  by  "  the  infernal  railways." 

It  was  a  day  of  thick,  rapidly-passing  clouds,  and  in  a  part  of 
my  walk,  which  was  through  a  well-wooded,  rolling  country,  with 
very  steep  hill-sides  and  deep,  narrow  valleys,  I  saw  some  most 
charming  effects  of  broad  shadows,  chasing  over  waving  foliage, 
with  angel-flights  of  sunshine,  often  disclosing  long,  narrow 
vistas  of  distant,  deep  glens,  or  glances  of  still  water,  becalmed 
and  warm  under  high,  dark,  quivering,  leafy  bluffs.  But  the 
greater  part  of  this  country  (but  a  day's  walk  from  London)  is 
the  most  dreary,  desolate,  God-forsaken-looking  land  that  I  ever 
saw  or  imagined.  Hills  and  dales,  picturesque  enough  in  form, 
high,  deep,  and  broad ;  all  brown,  gray,  and  black ;  sterile,  parch- 
ed, uninhabited — dead :  the  only  sign  of  life  or  vegetation  a  little 
crisp  moss,  or  singed,  prostrate,  despairing  ling — seeming  exactly 
as  if  an  intense  fire  had  not  long  since  swept  over  it. 

Such  was  the  whole  dreary  landscape,  far  and  near  —  only 
"  blasted  heath."  A  great  black  squall-cloud  had  for  some  time 
thrown  additional  gloom  —  a  new  intensity  of  gloom  —  over  it ; 
and  I  was  walking  slowly,  in  bereavement  of  all  sympathizing 
life  in  this  sepulchral  ground  of  Nature,  when  my  eye  fell  upon 


A  HIGHWAY  ADVENTURE.  339 

a  block  of  stone,  bearing  inscription  —  "In  detestation  of  the 
murder  of  a  sailor  on  this  spot^  by  [three  persons  whose  names 
are  given],  who  were  hung  near  here.  '  Whoso  sheddeth  man's 
blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.'  Look  on  the  other  side" 

I  was  still  half  kneeling  and  musing  before  this  monument, 
when  I  heard  myself  gruffly  addressed,  "  Wull  tell  me  what's  the 
time  o'  day?" 

Without  rising,  I  turned  my  head  and  saw  over  my  shoulder  a 
tall,  heavily- whiskered,  ruffianly-faced  fellow,  half  sportsman,  half 
sailor  in  dress,  carrying  a  stout  stick  and  a  bundle  in  a  handker- 
chief. How  did  he  get  there  ?  I  must  have  seen  him  before  if 
he  had  come  either  way  by  the  road ;  he  must  have  approached 
from  over  the  hill  behind  me,  and  that  cautiously ;  apparently  he 
had  been  concealed  there.  I  confess  that  I  wished  for  a  moment 
that  I  had  in  "  my  interior  reservoirs  a  sufficient  Birmingham 
horse-pistol,"  wherewith  to  make  myself  alike  tall  with  him  if  he 
should  give  me  need ;  but,  still  bending  over  the  memorial  of 
murder,  I  drew  my  watch  and  answered  him  civily,  whereupon, 
without  even  a  "  growl,"  he  "  sidled  off,"  and  soon  passed  from 
my  sight.  My  friends  had  seen  the  same  man,  in  company  with 
another,  near  the  same  place,  an  hour  and  a-half  before. 

On  "the  other  side" — oh,  human  vanity!  —  was  the  name  of 
the  man  who  had  caused  the  stone  to  be  placed  there.  Posterity 
is  requested  to  remember  the  murderers  and  the  murdered,  and 
especially  not  to  forget  the  dctester. 


340  AX  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  L. 

London  Lads — Railway  Ride  —  Observations  in  Natural  History. 

A  T  half-past  five,  having  overtaken  my  friends  and  dined  at 
**  Godalming,  I  took  seat  with  them  in  the  third-class  carriages 
of  a  train  bound  to  London,  intending,  however,  only  to  take  a 
lift  so  that  we  might  walk  in  before  dark. 

The  carriages  were  nearly  empty,  till,  stopping  at  a  way- 
station,  they  were  suddenly  and  with  boisterous  merry  haste 
taken  possession  of,  filled  full  and  over-filled  with  a  class  of 
people  differing  in  their  countenances,  manners,  language,  and 
tone  of  voice  from  any  we  had  before  seen  in  England.  They 
were  more  like  New  York  b'hoys,  a  little  less  rowdy  and  a  shade 
more  vulgar.  "  London  lads,"  one  of  them  very  civily  told  me 
they  were,  employed  in  a  factory  out  here  in  the  country,  and 
having  just  received  their  week's  wages  were  going  in  to  spend 
them.  They  were  pale,  and  many  effeminate  in  features,  rather 
oily  and  grimy,  probably  from  their  employment ;  talked  loudly 
and  rapidly,  using  many  cant  words,  and  often  addressing  those 
at  a  distance  by  familiar,  abbreviated  names ;  lively,  keen,  quick- 
eyed,  with  a  peculiarly  fearless,  straightforward,  uneducated  way 
of  making  original  remarks,  that  showed  considerable  wit  and 


THE  LONDON  B'lIOYS.  341 

powers  of  observation ;  rough,  turbulent,  and  profane,  yet  using 
a  good  many  polite  forms,  and  courteous  enough  in  action. 

Two  or  three  men,  as  soon  as  the  train  was  in  motion,  held  up 
each  a  brace  or  two  of  rabbits,  at  which  there  was  cheering  and 
laughter  from  the  rest.  All,  indeed,  were  in  the  greatest  possible 
good  humor,  joking  and  bantering  and  making  engagemonts,  or 
telling  of  their  plans  for  dining  together,  or  meeting  for  some 
degrading  excitement  on  Sunday.  Of  us  and  others  in  the  car, 
when  they  entered,  they  took  little  notice,  though  treating  us  with 
respect  in  not  jostling  or  crowding  us ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
well  settled  in  their  places  they  began  to  make  game  of  one  an- 
other ;  to  tell  stories,  evidently  inventing  comic  anecdotes  of  their 
employers  and  other  common  acquaintances,  both  absent  and  pres- 
ent. A  dignified  person,  who  stood  upon  the  platform,  was  made 
very  uncomfortable,  and  reduced  considerably  in  height  and 
stiffness,  by  urgent  invitations  to  join  them.  The  "  guard,"  too, 
as  he  passed,  was  an  especial  butt,  and  several  illustrations  were 
given  of  the  ignorant  character  of  railway-people  in  general. 
"  There  vas  von  o'  them  Mefodis  wisitin-coves,  you  know,  wot 
'awks  tracs  and  suchlike,  in  here  a  Vensdy  wen  we  come  up ; 
and  ven  the  guard  come  along  he  arks  him  did  he  know  the 
Lord's  prayer?  'Lorspraer?'  says  he,  'vot  is  he?'  says  he;  'is 
he  a  'stoker  or  a  driver  ?'  says  he,  ha !  ha !  ha !  I'm  bio  wed  'f  'e 
didn't." 

"  I  saw  one  of  them  same  fellows  other  night,"  continued  an- 
other, "  wot  'ad  'old  of  another  on  'em.  He  treats  'im  to  a  go  o' 
gin  first,  you  see,  to  make  him  sharp  like,  and  then  he  axes  him 
did  he  know  any  think  about  the  eternal  world.  i  Turnulwool  ?' 
says  he — *  'Turnulwool  ? — no  such  place  in  the  Farnham  branch, 
sir — hadn't  you  best  enkvireof  the  station-master,  sir?'  says  he." 

"  'Ternal  world's  the  place  where  they  hadn't  got  the  rails 
down  to  yet — last  adwices ;  aren't  it  ? — and  they  carries  the  nobs 


342  ^LV  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

on  there  with  lays  o'  busses  wot  runs  erry  day  in  the  year  oney 
Sunneys  and  her  Majestee's  birth-day.'* 

u  No,  no ;  I'll  tell  you  where  'tis  —  it's  the  kentry  what  the 
coves  in  Astraly  cuts  to  wen  the  kangarwoos  gets  short  and  the 
gin-trees  gives  out  and  they's  'ard  up." 

"  Kangurerhoos — what's  them?" 

"  Kind  of  fish  as  is  covered  with  feathers  'stead  o'  scales." 

"  I  know  it  —  I  see  a  sailor  as  'ad  a  vestcoat  made  on't ;  short 
vethers  like  spangled  welwet,  black  and  goold — stunnenest  thing 
you  ever  see." 

-What's  a  gin-tree?" 

"  I  know — there  is — a  big  tree  wot  runs  gin  wen  yer  tap  her 
— and  there's  a  bread-tree,  too—" 

"  What  bears  fresh  kortern  loavs  erry  morning." 

"  Hurray  for  Polytechny !    Ain't  they  all  sliced  and  buttered  ?  " 

"  In  course  they  is,  and  ven  you  shakes  'em  off,  the  skin  cracks 
open,  and  they  all  vails  buttered  side  up— coz  vy  ?  Vy  the  trees 
is  werry  'igh  and  the  buttered  side's  the  lightest  to  be  sure." 

"  That's  the  place  for  this  chile — I'm  bound  to  go  there — only 
waitin'  for  an  act  of  Parliament ;  and  wen  I  get  there — Buffalo 
gals!"— 

"  When  he  gets  there  you  know  what  he'll  do  ?  When  he 
comes  to  the  gin-trees  he'll  treat  all  'round.  First  tune  in  his 
life.  Ha!  ha!" 

And  with  such  constantly-combining  streams  a  flood  of  original 
information  and  entertainment  was  poured  out  to  us  until  we 
reached  the  little  station  about  nine  miles  out  of  London,  to  which 
we  had  taken  tickets. 


WALK  TO  LONDON.  343 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Rural  Laborers  near  London  —  Our  Mother  Tongue  —  Cockneys  —  Provin- 
cialists  —  On  the  Naturalization  of  Foreign  Words  —Authorities  —  Subur- 
ban London  —  London  —  The  Thames  —  "  Saint  Paul's  from  Blackfriar's 
Bridge." 

TTPON  our  asking  directions,  a  gentleman  who  left  the  first- 
^  class  carriage  offered  to  be  our  guide  for  a  little  way.  He 
led  us  between  fields  in  which  men  were  hay-making.  We  spoke 
of  the  "  London  lads"  we  had  been  riding  with,  and  the  gentle- 
man agreed  with  us  that,  bad  as  they  might  appear,  they  were 
less  degraded  than  the  mass  of  agricultural  laborers. 

"  We  could  not  stop  to  rest  here  on  the  stile,"  said  he,  "  but 
that  every  single  man  in  that  field,  in  the  course  of  five  minutes, 
would  come  to  us  to  ask  something  for  drink ;  and  the  worst  of 
it  is,  it  is  not  an  excuse  to  obtain  money  by  indirect  begging  for 
the  support  of  their  families,  but  they  would  actually  spend  it 
immediately  at  the  public-house." 

We  told  him  that  we  had  never  been  in  London,  and  after  a 
little  conversation  he  said  that  he  had  been  trying  to  discover 
where  we  came  from,  as  from  our  accent  he  should  have  thought 
us  Londoners.  He  had  thought  that  he  could  always  tell  from 
what  part  of  England  any  stranger  in  London  came,  but  he  could 
not  detect  any  of  the  provincial  accents  or  idioms  in  our  language. 


344  ^V  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

TTe  told  him  that  we  had  supposed  the  cockney  dialect  was  quite 
distinct,  but  certainly  neyer  imagined  it  at  all  like  our  own.  On 
the  contrary,  he  said,  except  among  the  vulgar  classes,  the  Lon- 
doner alone  has  no  dialect,  but,  much  more  than  the  native  of  any 
other  part  of  England,  speaks  our  language  from  infancy  in  its 
purity,  and  with  the  accent  generally  approved  by  our  most  ele- 
gant orators  and  generally-acknowledged  authorities. 

"  But  a  liberal  education  must  remove  provincialisms,  both  of 
idiom  and  accent." 

"  In  a  degree  only.  A  boy  will  generally  retain  a  good  deal 
of  his  provincial  accent  through  the  public  school  and  university. 
At  least,  I  have  paid  considerable  attention  to  the  matter,  and  I 
think  I  am  always  able  to  detect  it,  and  say  with  confidence  in 
which  quarter  of  the  kingdom  a  man  spent  his  youth.  You 
would  yourself  probably  have  no  difficulty  in  detecting  a  Scotch- 
man." 

"  I  have  noticed  that  Scotchmen  who  have  resided  long  in 
England,  and  who  had  in  a  considerable  degree  lost  their  original 
peculiarities,  usually  spoke  in  a  disagreeably  high  key  and  with 
great  exactness  and  distinctness  of  utterance." 

"  That  is  the  result  of  the  original  effort  which  it  was  necessary 
for  them  to  use  to  speak  correctly.  They  speak  from  the  book, 
as  it  were,  and  the  same  is  more  or  less  noticeable  in  all  proviu- 
cialists  who  do  not  habitually  speak  with  the  accent  of  their 
youth." 

We  then  informed  him  that  we  were  Americans,  which  sur- 
prised him.  I  somewhat  doubt  myself  the  correctness  of  his 
observation.  I  am  aware  of  habitually  using  many  Yankeeisms 
myself,  and  have  no  desire  to  avoid  them.  The  New  England 
accent  of  words,  except  such  as  are  not  very  commonly  used,  I 
should  think  might  be  generally  agreeable  to  the  most  approved 
standards  in  England.  The  educated  English  certainly  speak 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  AUTHORITIES.  345 

with  much  greater  distinctness  and  more  elegance  than  we  com- 
monly do ;  perhaps  they  generally  err  in  being  too  precise  and 
methodical,  and  it  may  be  that  the  Londoners  converse  with  more 
rapidity  and  ease,  or  carelessness,  than  others.  That  what  are 
shown  to  us  as  peculiarities  of  cockney  dialect,  are  mere  vulgar- 
isms and  slang,  not  altogether  peculiar  to  the  metropolis,  is  very 
true. 

Agreeably  to  Walker,  the  educated  English  often  give  the 
sound  of  a  to  e,  pronouncing  Derby,  Darby;  clerk,  dark,  etc. 
This  at  first  seemed  very  odd ;  but  when  I  returned  home,  our 
own  way  had  become  foreign  to  me.  "With  us,  except  in  society 
which  has  a  more  than  ordinary  European  element,  foreign  words 
in  common  use,  are  more  generally  Anglicized  than  in  England ; 
and  though  when  one  is  accustomed  to  the  more  polite  sound 
there  may  seem  an  affectation  of  simplicity  in  this,  I  cannot  but 
wish  that  our  custom  was  more  general.  The  French  almost 
universally  adapt  foreign  words  of  which  they  have  need  for 
common  use  to  the  requirements  of  their  habitual  tongue,  chang- 
ing not  only  the  pronunciation  but  the  orthography :  they  write 
rosbif,  for  English  roast  beef;  biftek,  for  beefsteak.  So  we  write 
and  pronounce  cotelette,  cutlet ;  why  need  we  say  "  angtremay," 
for  entremets  ?  or  if  we  choose  that  sound,  and  like  it  also  better 
than  " side-dishes"  why  not  print  it  "angtremay?"  We  write 
Cologne,  for  Koln ;  why  not  Leeong,  for  Lyons  ?  or  if  Lyons,  let 
us  also  speak  it  Lyons,  and  consider  Leeong  an  affectation  except 
when  we  speak  it  in  connection  with  other  plainly  French  words. 
The  rule  with  regard  to  such  matters  is,  to  follow  custom.  Sin- 
gularity is  impertinent  where  it  can  be  gracefully  avoided ;  but 
as  there  is  more  tendency  to  Anglicize  foreign  words  that  are  in 
general  use  in  America  than  in  England,  and  this  is  a  good  and 
sensible  tendency,  let  us  not  look  for  our  rules  to  English  custom. 
Let  us  read  Venus  de  Medicis,  Venus  de  Medicis,  rather  than 


346  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IN  ENGLAND. 

stammer  and  blush  over  it  because  we  are  not  perfect  in  Italian. 
I  once  heard  a  clergyman  call  it  "  Venu-de-Medisy :"  two-thirds 
of  his  congregation  understood  what  he  meant  as  well  as  if  he 
had  given  it  the  true  Italian  pronunciation ;  but  if  he  had  read  it 
with  the  sound  they  would  naturally  attach  in  English  reading  to 
that  connection  of  letters,  nearly  all  would  have  known  what  he 
meant,  and  no  one  would  have  had  a  reasonable  occasion  to  laugh 
at  him.  But  why  is  not  our  own  language  fit  to  speak  of  it  in — 
the  Medicean  Venus  ?  Why  should  the  French  word  envelope 
be  used  by  us  when  we  have  the  English  envelop  ?  Why  the 
Italian  chiaro-oscuro,  when  there  is  the  English  clare-obscure 
expressing  the  same  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  some  of  our  railroad 
companies  accepting  the  word  station,  which  is  good  old  English, 
in  place  of  the  word  depot,  which,  as  we  pronounce  it,  is  neither 
French  nor  English.*  In  England,  the  designation  station  is 
invariable.  Depot  is  only  used  as  a  military  technicality,  with 
the  French  pronunciation,  dapo.  If  we  really  want  a  foreign 
word  or  phrase  to  express  ourselves,  it  shows  a  deficiency  in  our 
language.  Supply  this  by  making  your  foreigner  English :  we  in 
America  must  not  be  chary  of  admitting  strangers.  Naturalize 
it  as  soon  as  possible. 

Neither  let  us  think  it  of  great  consequence  whether  we  say 
Rush-an  or  Ru-shan,  for  Russian ;  trawf  or  truf  (as  usual  in 
England),  for  trough;  defor  deef,  for  deaf;  or  whether  we  spell 
according  to  Johnson,  or  Walker,  or  Webster,  (or  Webster  modi- 
fied) ;  the  custom  varies,  not  only  between  England  and  America, 
but  between  elegant  scholars  of  each  country  in  itself. 

Half-a-mile's  walk  brought  us  to  a  village  of  plain,  low,  de- 
tached, paltry  shops,  where  our  guide,  having  given  us  a  very 
simple  direction,  took  leave  of  us.  We  followed  up  the  broad 

*  Station  is  the  word  now  used  in  the  laws  of  New  York. 


S  UB  URBAN  LONDON.  347 

street ;  the  shops,  a  large  number  of  which  were  ale-houses,  soon 
were  displaced  in  a  great  measure  by  plain,  small  villas  of  stone, 
or  stuccoed  brick,  standing  two  or  three  rods  back  from  the  street, 
with  dense  shrubbery,  enclosed  by  high  brick  walls  before  them. 
Gradually  the  houses  ran  together  and  became  blocks ;  omni- 
buses, market-carts,  heavy  "vans"  (covered  luggage  wagons), 
and  pleasure-carriages,  constantly  met  and  passed,  and  when  we 
had  walked  about  three  miles,  the  village  had  become  a  compact, 
busy  town — strangely  interrupted  once  by  a  large,  wild,  wholly 
rustic  common.  Then  the  town  again :  the  side- walk  encroached 
upon  by  the  grocers  and  hucksters;  monster  signs  of  "entire" 
ales  and  ready-made  coffins,  and  "great  sacrifices"  of  haberdash- 
ery and  ladies'  goods ;  the  street  wide  and  admirably  paved,  and 
crossed  at  short  but  irregular  intervals  by  other  narrower  streets, 
and  growing  more  busy  every  moment.  Still  it  is  nothing  re- 
markable ;  a  wide  street,  plain  brick  houses,  a  smell  of  gas  now 
and  then,  and  a  crowd.  I  would  hardly  have  known,  from  any 
thing  to  be  seen,  that  I  was  not  entering  some  large  town  in  our 
own  country,  which  I  had  never  visited  before.  Indeed,  it's  quite 
like  coming  down  the  Bowery. 

People  were  looking  up ;  following  the  direction  of  their  eyes, 
we  saw  a  balloon  ascending.  The  air  was  calm,  and  it  rose  to  a 
great  height  —  greater,  says  the  Times  this  morning,  than  any 
ever  reached  before. 

A  shrill  cry  in  the  distance,  rising  faintly  above  the  rumble  of 
the  wheels  and  hum  and  patter  of  the  side-walks,  grows  rapidly 
more  distinct,  until  we  distinguish,  sung  in  a  high  key,  "Strawber- 
rie— Sixpenny-pottle.  Who'll  buy  ?  "  The  first  of  "  London  cries." 

We  have  been  walking  steadily,  in  a  nearly  straight  line,  for 
two  hours,  and  now  the  crowd  thickens  rapidly  until  it  is  for  a 
moment  at  the  fullest  Broadway  density.  There  is  a  long  break 
in  the  brick-house  fronts,  and  we  turn  aside  out  of  the  crowd  and 


348  AN  AMERICAX  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

halt  to  take  an  observation.  We  are  leaning  over  the  parapet  of 
Blackfriar's  Bridge.  The  Thames  looks  much  as  I  had  sup- 
posed ;  something  wider  than  our  travelers  usually  represent  it, 
hardly  an  "  insignificant  stream"  even  to  an  eye  accustomed  to 
American  rivers,  but  wide  enough  and  deep  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  make  bridges  of  magnificence  necessary  to  cross  it,  and 
answering  all  the  requirements  needed  in  a  ship-canal  passing 
through  the  midst  of  a  vast  town.  A  strong  current  setting  up- 
ward from  the  sea  gurgles  under  the  arches ;  heavy  coal-barges 
slowly  sweep  along  with  it ;  dancing,  needle-like  wherries  shoot 
lightly  across  it,  and  numerous  small,  narrow  steamboats,  crowded 
with  passengers,  plow  white  furrows  up  and  down  its  dark 
surface. 

Upon  the  bank  opposite  —  almost  upon  the  bank,  and  not  dis- 
tant in  an  artist's  haze  —  stand  blackened  walls  and  a  noble  old 
dome,  familiar  to  us  from  childhood.  It  is  only  nearer,  blacker, 
and  smaller — wofully  smaller — than  it  has  always  been.  We  do 
not  even  think  of  telling  each  other  it  is  SAINT  PAUL'S. 

There  is  a  low  darkness,  and  the  houses  and  all  are  sooty  in 
streaks,  but  there  is  a  pure — so  far  as  our  lungs  and  noses  know 
— pure,  fresh,  cool  breeze  sweeping  up  the  river,  and  overhead  a 
cloudless  sky ;  and  in  the  clear  ether,  clear  as  Cincinnati's,  there 
is  a  new  satellite  —  beautiful  as  the  moon's  daughter.  It  is  the 
balloon,  now  so  high  that  the  car  is  invisible ;  and  without  any 
perceptible  motion  it  blushes  in  golden  sunlight,  while  we  have 
been  some  time  since  left  to  evening's  dusk. 
"  The  crowd  tramps  behind  us.  We  turn  and  are  sucked  into 
the  channel,  which  soon  throws  us  out  from  the  bridge  upon  a 
very  broad  street ;  up  this,  in  a  slackening  tide,  we  are  still  un- 
resistingly carried,  for  it  is  Ixmdon,  and  that  was  what  we  were 
looking  for ;  and  for  awhile  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  absorbed  in 
it  without  asking  what  is  to  become  of  us  next. 


A  PILGRIMAGE.  349 


CHAPTER  LIL 

A  Pilgrimage. 

TI7HILE  in  London,  I  was  one  day  visiting  a  library,  when 
the  friend  who  conducted  me  called  my  attention  to  a  series 
of  shelves,  saying,  "here  are  topographical  and  genealogical 
records,  arranged  under  the  head  of  counties — is  yours  an  Eng- 
lish name  ?  I  have  never  seen  it  in  England." 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  is — at  least  our  family  came  to  America 
from  England." 

" From  what  part — do  you  know?" 

"  Essex,  I've  heard  it  said." 

"  When,"  said  he,  taking  down  a  book. 

"1630  to  40." 

"  Yes,  here  it  is — Manor  of  Olmsted,  in  Bumpstead  Helens, 
Thaxstead ;  passed  out  of  the  family  near  the  end  of  sixteenth 
century.  Maurice  de,  married,  and-so-forth.  A  moated  grange, 
now  belongs  to College,  Cambridge.  Where's  the  Ord- 
nance map  of  Essex?  Here.  Let's  see — Thaxstead — Olm- 
sted Hall;  yes,  here  it  is — only  about  six  miles  from  a  station. 
Better  go  out  there  and  see  it,  hadn't  you  ?  You  can  do  it  in 
half  a  day  easily  enough." 

The  next  day  I  went;  traveling  half  an  hour  by  rail,  and  then 


350  AN  AMERICAN  FARMER  IX  EXGLAXD. 

taking  a  chaise,  by  which  a  drive  of  six  miles  brought  me  to  a 
small  hamlet  with  a  small  and  ruinous  church  in  a  very  ancient 
graveyard.  I  inquired  for  the  parish  clerk  and  found  him,  a 
cobbler,  at  his  work.  The  records  were  locked  up  at  the  curate's 
and  the  curate  was  away.  Did  any  one  live  hereabouts  of  the 
name  of  Olmsted  ?  Xo.  Did  he  ever  know  any  one  of  that 
name?  No;  no  man — there  was  the  old  hall  farm.  "What 
hall  ?  Olmsted  Hall  they  called  it.  Why  ?  He  did  not  know. 

I  asked  to  be  directed  to  it  and  found  it  difficult  of  access,  by 
narrow  parish  roads  and  farm  lanes. 

It  proved  to  be  a  large,  low  and  very  common-place  sort  of 
farm-house  of  stone,  in  the  midst  of  a  level  wheat  farm  of  200 
acres.  It  belonged  to  one  of  the  Cambridge  colleges,  and  the 
family  of  the  present  tenant  had  occupied  it  for  several  genera- 
tions. They  received  me  kindly,  and  when  I  told  them  my 
name,  with  some  little  excitement  and  manifestation  of  respect, 
as  if  I  had  rights  in  the  house.  "  Come  into  the  old  hall,  sir," 
they  said,  taking  me  to  the  largest  room — a  low  room,  about  20 
feet  by  20,  with  a  single  low  window  nearly  occupying  one  side, 
and  a  monstrous  old  fire-place,  now  bricked  up  for  a  coal  grate, 
another. 

"  This  is  the  old  hall." 

"  Why  do  you  call  it  the  hall?" 

"  It  always  was  called  so.  I  suppose  it's  because  they  used  to 
hold  courts  here,  sir.  The  house  used  to  be  moated  all  around, 
but  they  filled  up  the  moat  in  front  when  that  lane  was  built ; 
that  was  in  my  father's  time." 

The  moat  still  remained  around  the  garden,  a  deep  ditch  with 
a  low  earth  wall,  on  which  grew  an  old  hedge.  At  one  corner 
of  the  house  was  a  yew  tree,  certainly  several  hundred  years  old. 
This  house,  as  is  a  matter  of  record,  was  occupied  by  the  Ohn- 
steds  for  more  than  two  hundred  years  before  the  Puritan  emi- 


A  PILGRIMAGE.  351 


gration.     After  that   period  I  could   find  nothing  of  them  in 
England. 

I  have  given  this  account,  because  the  incident  is  so  character- 
istic of  an  American's  visit  to  England,  as  well  as  because  it  shows 
what  an  historic  interest  may  attach  to  any  old  farm-house  in 
England.  I  once  afterwards  entered  a  cottage  in  Lincolnshire 
where  a  child  was  playing  with  what  appeared  to  be  an  old  iron 
pot,  but  which  proved,  upon  examination,  to  be  a  helmet.  The 
father,  a  clod-hopping  yeoman,  said  it  had  been  worn  in  France 
by  some  one  of  his  forefathers.  He  had  a  horse-rug  that  came 
down  to  him  with  it.  This  he  brought  upon  my  asking  to  see  it — 
a  quilted  horse  cover,  once  elaborately  embroidered.  Since  these 
things  came  back  from  some  war  in  France,  hundreds  of  years 
ago,  they  had  always  remained  in  this  house,  which,  with. some 
forty  acres  of  land  around  it,  he  had  inherited.  He  did  not  live 
very  well,  but  his  land  was  yet  unincumbered,  and  he  hoped  his 
son  might  be  a  "yeoman-farmer"  after  him. 

But  it  is  a  melancholy  thing  that  there  are  so  few  yeoman 
now  in  England ;  that  is,  farmers  owning  the  land  they  till,  and 
independent  of  landlords. 


APPENDIX. 


[A.] 

Information  and  Advice  for  those  wishing  to  make  a  Pedestrian  Tour  in 
England,  at  the  least  practicable  expense. 

A  YOUNG  man  with  small  means,  and  who  is  willing  to 
"rough  it,"  wishes  to  know  with  how  little  money  it  would 
be  practicable  for  him  to  undertake  a  trip  to  England.  I  have 
no  doubt  there  are  many  such  who  would  visit  the  Old  World  if 
they  were  aware  how  cheaply  and  pleasantly  they  could  do  so. 
I  have  heretofore  expressed  my  own  obligation  to  Bayard  Tay- 
lor, and  it  is  probable  that  what  I  shall  have  to  say  will  be,  to 
some  extent,  a  repetition  of  the  instructions  given  in  a  chapter 
upon  the  subject  in  the  later  editions  of  the  "Views  a-Foot."  It 
will,  however,  have  more  especial  reference  to  traveling  on  foot 
in  England. 

The  Passage. — There  are  no  regular  arrangements  made  in 
the  packet-ships  for  those  who  wish  to  go  to  England  decently 
and  in  tolerable  comfort  at  a  moderate  price.  It  will  be  with 
more  or  less  difficulty,  according  as  freights  are  active  or  dull, 
that  you  may  obtain  a  proper  "second  cabin  passage  and  found." 
You  stand  the  best  chance  to  do  so  in  the  London  lines.  A 
special  arrangement  with  the  Captain  is  necessary.  A  party  of 
three  or  four  may  at  almost  any  time,  by  application  to  the  Cap- 
tain shortly  before  a  ship  sails,  engage  a  state-room,  provide 
themselves  with  stores,  and  hire  their  cooking  done,  etc.;  so 
23  (353) 


354  APPENDIX. 


that  the  passage  shall  cost  them  but  from  twenty  to  thirty  dollars. 
With  good  messmates,  good  catering,  a  liberal  gratuity  to  the 
cook,  steward  or  ship's  servant  that  waits  upon  you,  and  in  a  dean 
ship,  you  may  make  the  passage  in  this  way  more  agreeably  than 
in  any  other ;  more  so  than  in  the  first  cabin  at  four  times  the 
expense.  The  price  of  the  regular  first-cabin  passage  out  is  $90. 
In  the  steerage,  you  pay  $10  to  $12  for  a  mere  sleeping  place, 
provide  yourself  with  stores,  cook  for  yourself,  or  hire  some  fel- 
low-passenger, who  does  not  suffer  equally  from  sea-sickness,  to 
cook  for  you.  You  must  provide  yourself  with  bedding,  cooking 
utensils,  etc.  It  will  cost  you  about  $20.  Secure,  if  possible, 
an  upper  berth,  near  the  hatchway ;  be  provided  with  an  abund- 
ance of  old  clothes ;  look  out  for  pilferers ;  spend  an  hour  each 
morning  in  sweeping  and  keeping  clean  the  steerage ;  nurse  the 
sick ;  take  care  of  the  women  and  children ;  and  keep  the  deck 
all  the  time  that  you  otherwise  can.  You  will  probably  be  very 
miserable,  but  it  will  be  over  after  a  while ;  you  will  have  seen 
a  peculiar  exhibition  of  human  nature,  and  will  go  ashore  with  a 
pleasure  not  to  be  imagined.  You  can  go  to  Liverpool  or  Glas- 
gow by  the  screw-steamers  (second  cabin  and  found),  decently 
and  quickly,  for  from  $50  to  $75.  The  same  by  the  mail-steam- 
ers, not  so  comfortably  but  more  quickly.  Most  disagreeably, 
but  soon  over  with,  in  the  steerage  of  some  of  the  steamers  for 
340. 

Returning. — You  have  the  same  (and  rather  increased  second 
cabin  accommodations  by  the  London  packets),  at  about  10  per 
cent,  higher  prices.  You  can  live  comfortably  for  two  months, 
and  see  "the  lions"  in  Paris  or  London,  for  the  difference  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  cabin  fare  out  and  home. 

Our  Expenses  for  board  and  bed,  while  in  the  country  in  Eng- 
land, averaged  seventy-five  cents  a-day.  Expenses  of  short  con- 
veyance by  rail,  coach  and  boat ;  fees  to  showmen  and  guides ; 
washing,  postage  and  incidentals  (properly  included  as  traveling 
expenses),  added  to  this,  made  our  average  expenses  about  one 
dollar  a-day  each.  How  we  fared,  and  with  what  degree  of  com- 
fort or  luxury  we  were  content,  the  reader  should  have  already 
been  informed.  I  have,  however,  dwelt  more  upon  the  agreeable 
than  the  disagreeable  side  of  such  traveling.  We  often,  on  enter- 
ing a  town,  looked  from  one  inn  to  another,  in  doubt  which  to 
select,  desiring  to  avoid  unnecessary  expense,  while  we  secured 
quiet  and  cleanliness.  Sometimes  we  would  enter  a  house  and 
usk  to  see  the  rooms  and  know  the  charges.  No  offense  was 


APPENDIX.  355 


ever  taken  at  this,  though  once  or  twice,  where  we  were  going 
to  spend  a  Sunday,  and  the  rooms  were  not  agreeable,  or  con- 
venient to  write  in,  we  proceeded  further.  We  soon,  however, 
were  able  to  guess  very  well  the  character  of  a  house  by  its  out- 
side appearance,  and  could  regulate  our  disbursements  with  great 
exactness. 

Inns. — The  great  difference  between  the  large  "first-class" 
inns  and  the  second  and  third  class  is,  that  in  the  latter  the 
lodgers  are  so  few  that  one  or  two  servants  can  take  the  place  of 
three  or  four  at  the  former.  Frequently  the  landlord  may  be 
porter  and  Boots,  (and  will  act  as  guide  commissionaire  or  cice- 
rone /)  the  mistress,  cook ;  and  their  daughter,  waiter  and  cham- 
bermaid. In  such  cases,  generally,  no  servant's  fees  at  all  are 
expected,  and  at  most  a  third  or  half  of  what  is  honestly  due  the 
servants  of  the  stylish  inn  will  be  satisfactory.  The  small  inns 
are  really  often  more  comfortable  to  the  pedestrian  than  the  large 
ones ;  because  he  can  be  more  at  his  ease ;  need  not  care  how  he 
appears;  can  wheel  the  sofa  up  to  the  fire  or  open  all  the  win- 
dows ;  dine  in  his  slippers,  and  smoke,  if  he  likes,  in  the  parlor : 
take  command  of  the  house,  in  short :  see  for  himself  that  his 
shoes  are  greased  and  his  linen  washed  and  drying,  his  knapsack- 
straps  repaired,  lost  buttons  replaced,  and  all  his  rig  a-taunto  for 
an  early  start  without  delays  in  the  morning. 

If  you  call  for  anything  for  your  table  that  the  house  is  not 
provided  with,  it  will  be  at  once  procured  from  the  shops ;  the 
cooking  is  generally  good,  and  the  bread  always  fine.  We 
usually  contented  ourselves  with  one  hot  meal  in  a  day.  Two  of 
us  were  without  the  habit  of  drinking  tea  or  coffee,  and  would 
often  make  our  breakfast  of  bread  and  milk ;  lunch  on  bread  and 
cheese  and  beer,  and  take  a  substantial  meal  at  the  end  of  our 
day's  walk.  We  thought  we  walked  better  with  this  arrange- 
ment than  any  other. 

For  less  than  seventy  cents  a-day  it  is  possible  to  travel  in  Eng- 
land without  hardship  or  injury  to  health.  For  how  much  less  I 
cannot  say.  I  once  stopped  alone  at  a  house  where  I  dined  with 
the  family  on  boiled  bacon  and  potatoes  and  a  bag-pudding,  for 
which  I  was  charged  six-pence ;  breakfasted  on  scalded  milk  and 
bread  for  twopence;  and  was  asked  sixpence  in  advance  for 
lodging.  I  had  a  good,  clean  bed  and  washing  conveniences  in 
my  room.  Add  to  this  twopence  for  tea,  and  the  day's  living  is 
33  cents.  This  was  in  the  north  of  England,  and  was  extraor- 
dinary. The  usual  charge  for  lodging  is  a  shilling,  sometimes 


356  APPENDIX. 


ninepence,  and  sometimes  only  sixpence.  At  the  first-class  inns 
they  will  make  you  pay  well  in  one  way  or  another.  Where  we 
did  not  dine  we  have  been  charged  threepence  each  for  the  use 
of  the  public  room,  that  is  to  say,  for  sitting  in  it  instead  of  out- 
of-doors  or  in  our  rooms,  while  waiting  for  tea  to  be  prepared. 
With  regard  to  servants,  the  best  way  is  to  ask  the  landlord  to 
pay  them  and  charge  it  in  the  bill.  It  relieves  you  of  a  great 
annoyance,  and  in  such  cases  we  never  found  the  charge  added 
extravagant. 

Equipment. — Shoes  can  be  obtained  much  cheaper  in  England 
than  America,  and,  indeed,  first-rate  shoes  are  hardly  to  be  had 
in  America ;  but  English  shoes,  that  you  would  have  to  buy  at 
the  shops,  always  have  a  seam  across  the  instep  that  is  very  hard 
upon  a  foot  unaccustomed  to  it ;  and  for  this  reason,  and  to  insure 
a  shape  to  suit  you,  you  had  best  get  them  made  at  home.  The 
leather  should  be  well-tanned  and  dressed  thick  kip  or  cowhide, 
the  best  than  can  be  procured;  the  soles  of  "English  bend," 
three-eights  of  an  inch  in  thickness;  double  this  in  the  heel, 
which  should  come  so  far  forward  that  the  break  will  be  perpen- 
dicular with  the  point  of  the  ankle.  Give  your  order,  if  possible, 
six  months  beforehand  (I  never  have  known  a  shoemaker  who 
would  get  his  work  done  when  he  promised  for  any  considera- 
tion), and  go  to  the  workman  yourself  to  make  sure  that  he  un- 
derstands what  you  want,  otherwise  you  will  probably  receive, 
just  as  you  are  going  on  board  ship,  a  parcel  by  express  contain- 
ing a  pair  of  butterfly  pumps.  Have  a  distinct  agreement  that 
they  shall  be  returned  if  they  do  not  come  in  time,  and  if  they 
do  not  answer  to  your  order.  They  should  be  high  enough  (6| 
inches,  including  heel,  commonly)  to  well  cover  the  ankle,  and 
lace  up  with  but  two  crossings  over  the  instep.  The  laces  must 
be  made  of  the  best  leather,  and  you  should  carry  half-a-dozen 
spare  ones. 

If,  finally,  the  shoes  are  not  large  enough  to  go  easily  over 
two  woolen  socks  on  your  foot,  reject  them.  Get  shaker  woolen 
socks  of  an  exact  fit  to  your  foot,  or  as  large  as  they  may  be  with- 
out danger  of  folding  or  rubbing  into  welts  under  your  shoes. 
Wear  them  with  the  "wrong  side"  outward.  You  do  not  want 
to  wear  them  double,  but  your  feet  will  swell  so  in  a  long  hot 
day's  walk,  that  you  will  want  that  there  should  have  been  room 
enough  in  your  shoes  for  them  to  be  double  before  you  started. 
Break  your  shoes  in  on  the  passage. 

Gaiters  are  wrorn  to  protect  the  feet  from  dust  and  gravel  com- 


APPENDIX.  357 

ing  over  the  top  of  the  shoe.  They  increase  the  heat  of  the  feet 
to  that  degree  that  they  are  best  dispensed  with.  Bathe  your 
feet  at  every  convenient  opportunity  on  the  road,  and  always  as 
soon  as  you  stop  for  the  night,  and  change  your  socks  and  put  on 
slippers. 

I  took  all  these  precautions  and  yet  suffered  a  thousand  times 
more,  and  was  delayed  more,  from  foot-soreness  than  from  fatigue. 
English  pedestrians  and  sportsmen  often  wear  much  heavier  and 
clumsier  shoes  than  I  have  advised. 

Knapsack. — We  had  the  India-rubber  army  knapsack,  made 
at  Naugatuck,  Connecticut.  If  you  get  them  well  "seasoned," 
so  that  they  will  not  stick  or  smell,  and  with  a  good  harness,  they 
will  probably  be  the  best  that  you  can  procure.  Ours  were  so, 
and  we  found  them  convenient  and  to  wear  well. 

Clothing  you  can  get  in  England  better  than  at  home.  You 
must  dispense  with  everything  not  absolutely  essential  to  your 
comfort ;  for  every  ounce  is  felt  in  a  hot  day.  "We  carried  in  our 
knapsacks  each  about  as  follows : 

Four  shirts,  one  pair  cloth  pantaloons,  two  pair  socks ;  slippers, 
handkerchiefs,  mending  materials,  toilet  articles,  towel,  napkin, 
leather  drinking-cup,  cap,  oil-silk  cape,  portfolio  with  writing  and 
sketching  materials,  knife  and  fork,  candle  of  tallow  (that  it  may 
be  used  to  grease  shoes  with  upon  occasion),  matches,  a  book, 
map,  pocket-compass,  adhesive  plaster,  cord,  shoe-lacings. 

Everything  selected  with  care  for  lightness  and  compactness, 
and  the  whole  weighing  ten  pounds  and  a-half,  including  knapsack 
and  straps.  We  wore  upon  the  road  light  cloth  coats  and  waist- 
coats, and  linen  dusters  or  blouses,  and  light  cassimere  pantaloons. 
We  each  carried  a  strong,  hooked  hickory-stick,  and  it  will  be 
found  best  to  do  so.  We  usually  wore  broad-brimmed,  pliable 
felt  hats  of  the  best  quality ;  they  were  excellent  both  in  sun  and 
rain.  We  also  had  light  linen  caps. 

For  rainy  weather  a  cape  of  the  best  black  oiled  silk,  22  inches 
long  before,  and  16  inches  behind,  with  a  low  collar,  and  button- 
ing in  front,  weighing  half-a-pound,  and  folding  so  small  that  it 
could  be  carried  in  a  coat  pocket — a  capital  and  serviceable 
article.  With  a  loop  and  a  tape  it  may  be  gathered  tight  at  the 
waist  under  the  knapsack,  so  as  not  to  be  lifted  by  the  wind. 

A.  flash  for  drink  is  hardly  worth  its  carriage  in  England.  A 
man  every  way  in  health  should  be  able  to  walk  a  dozen  miles 
or  more  without  wanting  to  drink.  Where  good  water  is  con- 
stantly to  be  had,  it  is  refreshing  to  taste  it  very  frequently,  and 


358  APPENDIX. 


there  are  no  ill  effects  to  be  apprehended  from  doing  so.  You 
will  perspire  more  freely,  and  I  think  stand  the  heat  better ;  but 
cold  water  will  not  quench  thirst,  except  momentarily ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  believe  it  increases  it.  Malt  liquors  and  spirituous 
liquors  have  different  effects  upon  different  individuals.  Both 
are  disagreeable  to  me.  Most  English  pedestrians  drink  very 
freely  of  malt  liquors,  and  find  them  wholesome.  On  the  Conti- 
nent I  would  carry  a  flask  for  light  wine,  such  as  every  peasant 
has  to  his  dinner.  Its  cost  is  trifling,  and  there  is  nothing  which 
will  quench  thirst  like  it.  It  is  not  very  palatable  at  first,  but 
exceedingly  refreshing,  and  I  believe  every  way  heathful.  It 
has  no  intoxicating,  and  very  slight  stimulating,  qualities.  I 
think  it  would  have  an  excellent  effect  on  the  public  health,  if  it 
could  be  produced  cheaply,  and  used  as  freely  as  tea  and  coffee 
now  are  in  the  United  States. 

When  you  feel  very  much  jaded  with  a  long  walk,  and  hardly 
able  to  go  any  further,  if  you  can  swallow  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit 
of  toast  or  biscuit,  and  pour  a  wine-glass  of  spirits  into  your 
shoes,  keeping  yourself  warm  during  the  necessary  short  halt,  you 
will  find  yourself  good  for  another  hour  or  two  of  hard  tramping. 

Routes  and  Distances. — Unless  you  are  considerably  familiar 
with  the  language  and  history  of  a  Continental  nation,  I  would 
advise  you  to  spend  most  of  your  time  in  England.  It  is  better 
to  study  thoroughly  the  character  of  one  people,  and  remain  so 
long,  if  possible,  in  their  country,  that  you  may  feel  as  if  you 
had  lived  in  it,  and  made  yourself  a  part  of  it,  than  to  run  super- 
ficially over  a  dozen.  It  is,  however,  much  cheaper,  and  in  many 
respects  more  agreeable  to  walk  in  Germany  than  in  England ; 
and  a  true  American,  mingling  with  the  peasant  people,  can  hard- 
ly fail  to  do  them  good,  and  have  his  own  heart  enlightened  and 
expanded  by  their  spirit  longing  for  liberty  and  universal  affec- 
tion for  his  country.  It  is  of  walking  in  England,  however,  that 
I  wish  especially  to  speak. 

Your  route  should  be  determined  by  your  tastes  and  objects. 
If  they  are  as  general  as  ours,  and  you  design  to  employ  the 
same  time  in  England  that  we  did,  I  could  advise  but  very  slight 
variation  from  our  route. 

With  a  week's  more  time,  you  should  see  more  of  North 
Wales,  (though,  in  general,  mountain  and  lake  country  is  not 
England,  and  you  can  get  what  tourists  go  to  those  districts  for 
better  nearer  at  home ;)  extend  your  walk  into  Devonshire,  and 
keep  along  the  south  coast  to  Portsmouth.  After  visiting  the 


APPENDIX.  359 


Isle  of  Wight,  the  old  road  to  London,  running,  I  believe,  through 
Guildford,  is  said  to  be  much  pleasanter  than  the  more  direct 
way  we  came.  After  spending  some  weeks  in  and  about  Lon- 
don, follow  up  the  Thames  by  Henley,  and  as  near  the  south 
bank  as  you  can,  to  Oxford — then  by  Stratford-on-Avon,  War- 
wick and  Kenilworth  to  Birmingham ;  thence,  according  to  your 
interest,  through  the  manufacturing  districts,  and  by  Chatsworth 
and  the  Derbyshire  moors  to  York ;  thence  by  Fountain's  Abbey, 
through  the  curious  hill-country  of  West  Yorkshire  and  Lanca- 
shire, into  Westmoreland ;  thence  either  north  to  Scotland,  or  by 
Liverpool  to  Ireland,  crossing  afterwards  to  Scotland  from  Bel- 
fast. Guide-books  can  be  obtained  in  New  York,  by  the  aid  of 
which  and  a  good  map,  you  may,  before  you  leave  home,  judge 
how  much  time  you  will  want  to  spend  in  examining  various  ob- 
jects of  interest,  and  ascertain  distances,  etc.  You  can  thus  plot 
off  your  route  and  calculate  the  time  at  which  you  will  arrive  at 
any  particular  point.  Guide-books  are  expensive  and  heavy,  and 
this  is  their  principal  use ;  further,  you  are  liable  to  pass  through 
a  town  and  neglect  to  see  something  for  which  it  is  peculiarly 
distinguished,  without  you  have  something  to  remind  you  of  it. 

We  traveled  at  first  at  the  rate  of  one  hundred  miles  in  six 
days,  at  last  at  the  rate  of  about  two  hundred ;  sometimes  going 
forty  miles,  and  ordinarily  thirty,  in  a  day.  We  usually  did 
thirty  miles  in  eleven  hours,  one  of  which  might  be  spent  under 
a  hedge  or  in  a  wayside  inn,  and  about  one  mile  an  hour  lost  in 
loitering,  looking  at  things  on  the  wayside  or  talking  to  people 
that  we  met ;  our  actual  pace  was  just  about  four  miles  an  hour. 

You  can  start  with  twelve  miles  in  a  day,  and  calculate  to 
average  twenty-five  after  the  first  fortnight. 

If  you  can  make  anything  like  a  harmonious  noise  upon  any 
instrument  for  that  purpose,  I  would  advise  you  to  strap  it  on. 
You  will  understand  its  value  by  reading  the  life  of  Goldsmith. 
It  will  make  you  welcome  in  many  a  peasant  circle,  where  you 
might  otherwise  have  been  only  a  damper  upon  all  naturalness 
and  geniality. 


360  APPENDIX. 


[B.] 

Principles  of  the  Mark  System,  framed  to  mix  Persuasion  with  Punishment, 
and  make  their  effect  improving,  yet  their  operation  severe.  By  CAPTAIN 
MACHOXOCHIE.  R.  N.,  K.  Hv  late  Superintendent  of  the  British  Penal  Set- 
tlement at  Norfolk  Island. 

"Our  present  punishments  resemble  everything  that  is  most  deteriorating  in  ordinary 
life:  and  they  deteriorate  accordingly.  If  -we  would  infuse  into  them  those  impulses 
•which,  under  Providential  guidance,  make  other  forms  of  adversity  improving,  we  would 
make  them  improving  also." 

THE  constituent  elements  in  secondary  punishment  are  labor 
and  time.  Men  are  sentenced  to  hard  labor  for  a  given  time : 
— but  the  time  is  here  made  to  measure  the  labor — and  the  first 
proposal  of  the  Mark  System  is,  that  instead  of  this  the  labor  be 
made  to  measure  the  time.  This  idea  is  not  peculiar  to  it.  In 
his  letter  to  Earl  Grey  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  uses  these 
words :  "  The  best  plan,  as  it  appears  to  me,  would  be,  instead  of 
sentencing  men  to  imprisonment  for  a  certain  time,  to  sentence 
them  to  render  a  certain  amount  of  labor.  A  fixed  daily  task 
may  be  imposed  on  them,  but  with  power  to  exceed  this  at  their 
own  discretion,  thereby  shortening  their  period  of  detention. 
The  effect  would  be,  not  only  that  criminals  would  thus  acquire 
habits  of  labor,  but  of  attaching  an  agreeable  idea  to  labor.  By 
each  additional  step  they  took  on  the  tread-wheel  they  would 
be  walking  out  of  prison — by  each  additional  cut  of  the  spade 
they  would  be  cutting  a  way  to  return  to  society." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  express  the  direct  primary  effect  of  the 
system  in  happier  or  terser  terms ;  and  even  when  thus  stated, 
the  improvement  contemplated  on  existing  practice  appears  im- 
mense. But  much  more  when  the  ulterior  consequences  are  also 
considered.  By  substituting  a  powerful  internal  stimulus  to  ex- 
ertion for  that  physical  coercion  which  must  ever  be  at  best  an 
imperfect  external  one,  while  all  necessary  bondage  and  suffering 
as  the  consequences  of  crime  would  be  retained,  direct  "slavery" 
would  be  banished  from  among  our  secondary  punishments.  The 
tendencies  of  our  management  would  be  to  good,  whereas  those 


APPENDIX,  361 


of  the  existing  system  are  "to  evil  continually."  Men  would  im- 
prove under  it,  instead  of  becoming  worse.  And  the  administra- 
tion of  public  justice  would  acquire  a  place  among  the  Christian 
agencies  of  our  land :  it  is  painful  to  think  how  far  it  is  at  present 
removed  in  operation  from  any  such  character. 

But  another  view  may  be  also  taken  of  the  question  thus  in- 
volved, not  less  interesting.  If  we  look  abroad  into  ordinary  life, 
we  cannot  but  be  struck  with  the  resemblance  which  our  present 
forms  of  secondary  punishment  bear  to  everything  that  is  in  this 
most  enfeebling  and  deteriorating,  and  how  directly  opposed  they 
are  to  those  forms  of  adversity  which,  under  the  influence  of 
Providential  wisdom,  reform  character  and  invigorate  it.  Slave- 
ry deteriorates — long  seclusion  deteriorates — every  condition,  in 
a  word,  more  or  less  deteriorates,  which  leaves  no  choice  of  action, 
requires  no  virtue  but  obedience,  affords  no  stimulus  to  exertion 
beyond  this,  supplies  the  want  of  nature  without  effort  with  a 
view  to  them,  and  restores  to  prosperity,  through  lapse  of  time, 
without  evidence  that  such  restoration  is  deserved.  Yet  this  is 
our  present  system  of  secondary  punishment.  What  improves, 
on  the  contrary,  is  a  condition  of  adversity  from  which  there  is 
no  escape  but  by  continuous  effort — which  leaves  the  degree  of 
that  effort  much  in  the  individual's  own  power,  but  if  he  relaxes, 
his  suffering  is  deepened  and  prolonged,  and  it  is  only  alleviated 
and  shortened  if  he  struggles  manfully — which  makes  exertion 
necessary  even  to  earn  daily  bread — and  something  more,  pru- 
dence, self-command,  voluntary  economy  and  the  like,  to  recover 
prosperity.  To  this,  as  yet,  secondary  punishment  bears  no  re- 
semblance ;  but  were  our  sentences  measured  by  labor  instead  of 
time — were  they  to  the  performance  of  certain  tasks,  not  to  the 
occupation  of  a  certain  time  in  evading  any — the  approximation 
might  be  made  indefinitely  close. 

Labor  being  a  vague  term  the  system  next  proposes  that  it  be 
represented  by  marks — the  earning  of  so  many  thousands  of 
which,  in  a  prison  or  penal  settlement,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  be 
made  the  punishment  of  all  offenses  according  to  their  degree. 
A  proportion  of  these  marks  to  be  credited  to  individuals  daily, 
according  to  the  exertion  made  in  whatever  labor  is  allotted 
them — all  supplies  of  food  and  clothing  to  be  charged  in  them — 
all  misconduct  to  be  punished  by  fines  in  them — and  only  the 
clear  balance  to  be  carried  to  account  towards  liberation.  By 
this  means  both  wages  and  savings'  banks  would  be  introduced 
into  prisons — wages  to  stimulate  labor,  and  give  an  interest  in  it, 


APPENDIX. 


and  savings'  banks  to  give  a  similar  interest  to  habits  of  economy 
and  self-command.  To  make  the  resemblance  to  ordinary  life 
still  closer,  and  at  the  same  time  to  promote  kindly  and  social,  as 
opposed  to  selfish,  feeling,  it  is  further  proposed  that  during  a 
portion  of  their  entire  period  of  detention  criminals  be  distributed 
into  parties  or  families  of  six,  with  common  interests  and  accounts, 
rising  or  falling  together,  and  thus  all  interested  in  the  good  con- 
duct of  each.  By  this  means  a  strong  physical  check  would  be 
laid  on  crime  in  prisons,  with  a  yet  stronger  moral  one  ;  and  an 
apparatus  would  be  gained  by  which  good  conduct  and  exertion 
would  be  made  popular,  and  oiTense  unpopular,  in  the  community, 
and  all  would  be  interested  in  promoting  the  one  and  keeping 
down  the  other.  My  experience  on  Norfolk  Island — which 
was  imperfect,  because  my  views  were  not  then  sustained,  as  I 
trust  they  yet  will  be,  at  home,  my  powers  and  apparatus  were 
consequently  imperfect,  and  my  results  rather  indicated  tenden- 
cies than  gave  precise  conclusions — yet  leads  me  to  attach  great 
value  to  this,  as  to  several  other  details  explained  in  other  papers. 
But  I  regard  them  all  only  as  they  seem  to  me  to  carry  out  the 
principles  laid  down.  If  these  are  right,  when  once  established, 
the  best  details  to  found  on  them  will  soon  become  of  themselves 
apparent.  With  a  near  tangible  end,  like  individual  reform,  in 
view,  no  mistakes,  however  at  first  great,  can  be  long  persisted 
in. 

Severity,  then,  with  a  directly  benevolent  purpose — modeled 
with  a  view  to  recover  criminals  as  well  as  punish  them — con- 
trolled and  guided  by  the  enlightened  pursuit  of  this  noble  end, 
made  as  great,  for  the  benefit  both  of  the  individual  and  the  com- 
munity, as  is  compatible  wTith  it,  but  neither  greater  nor  other 
than  strictly  subordinate  to  it — this  is  the  guide  here  sought  to 
be  introduced  into  secondary  punishment :  and  unless  it  is  atten- 
tively considered,  it  will  be  found  difficult  to  believe  the  number 
of  new  views  that  it  will  open  up  of  interest  and  promise.  It 
will  adjust  the  controversy  between  harshness  and  lenity  which 
has  long  divided  reasoners  on  the  subject — the  one  impulse  hav- 
ing authorized  the  most  distressing  cruelties,  while  the  other  has 
occasionally  led  to  indulgences  scarcely  less  injurious  in  their 
ultimate  consequences  to  both  the  criminal  and  society,  enfeebling 
the  one,  and  leading  the  honest  laborer,  in  the  other,  painfully  to 
contrast  his  own  position  with  that  of  the  convicted  felon.  It 
will  thus  solve  many  preliminary  difficulties,  and  conduct  to 
many  important  conclusions.  It  will  give  a  new  spirit  to  punish- 


APPENDIX.  363 


ment  by  giving  it  a  new  direction.  By  raising  its  object  it  will 
raise  its  administration.  It  will  be  difficult  to  be  either  cruel  or 
careless  with  such  an  object  as  individual  reform  in  view,  and 
while  wielding  an  agency  offering  a  reasonable  probability  of  at- 
taining it.  (The  last  is  of  great  importance :  we  become  indif- 
ferent, in  spite  of  ourselves,  when  engaged  in  a  hopeless  task.) 
It  will  assimilate  this  branch  of  our  administration  to  those  ways 
of  Providence  to  men  which  must  always  be  our  surest  guides 
when  we  seek  to  influence  them.  It  will  thus  imitate  the  high- 
est wisdom,  and  thereby  enable  us  to  obey  the  highest  precept. 
We  may  love  while  we  chasten,  and  be  substantially  kind  even 
when  enforcing  the  strictest  commands  of  punitive  law.  It  will 
succeed  with  little  effort,  because  it  will  study  the  human  nature 
implanted  in  us,  instead  of  trampling  its  impulses  under  foot.  It 
will  further  conduct  to  great  economy  as  well  as  efficiency,  partly 
through  this  cause,  partly  because  the  virtues  of  industry  and 
self-command  which  it  will  be  its  great  aim  to  foster  will  equally 
bring  about  both  results.  The  practical  change  may  be  thought 
a  small  one  on  which  to  found  such  anticipations — the  change 
from  measuring  labor  by  time  to  that  of  measuring  time  by  labor 
— or,  in  other  words,  from  giving  our  criminals  time-sentences  to 
allotting  them  tasks : — but  the  one  course  is  the  direct  reverse 
of  the  other,  and  the  difference  may  be  thus  the  whole  difference 
between  right  and  wrong,  success  and  failure.  It  seems,  indeed, 
even  impossible  to  follow  out  the  chain  of  reasoning  suggested 
without  coming  to  this  conclusion.  When  men  are  smitten  with 
adversity  in  ordinary  life,  and  thus  punished  for  previous  follies 
or  misconduct,  they  are  not  condemned  to  this  adversity  for  a 
certain  time,  but  until  they  can  retrieve  their  position.  They 
suffer  under  this  task ;  they  sorrow  over  it  (but  without  resent- 
ment) ;  they  struggle  with  it :  their  characters  improve  under  the 
various  efforts  and  emotions  called  out  by  it ;  (both  deepened  if 
they  have  others  to  care  for  as  well  as  themselves ;)  frequently 
they  rise  even  higher  than  before; — and  society  is  instructed  by 
such  examples  in  every  way — it  shrinks  from  the  preliminary 
sufferings  exhibited  in  them,  and  emulates,  in  due  proportion  as 
its  own  case  may  require,  the  manly  struggle  that  has  at  length 
overcome  them.  And  so  it  might  be  with  our  punishments,  if 
we  would  model  them  on  the  same  type.  They  are  now  for  the 
most  part  barbarous  in  every  sense,  in  their  want  of  skill  and 
adaptation  to  high  purpose,  and  in  the  crime  and  misery  they 
thus  gratuitously  produce.  We  might  make  them  beneficent  in 


364  APPENDIX. 


every  sense,  merely  by  copying  the  wisdom  that  is  around  us ; — 
and  when  this  is  fully  understood,  it  is  not  to  be  imagined  but 
that  every  lover  of  his  kind  will  take  even  an  eager  interest  in 
bringing  about  the  change.  The  real  difficulty  is  to  influence  to 
the  inquiry. 

I  must  add,  that  in  this  condensed  statement  of  the  principles 
of  his  system,  Captain  Machonochie  has  made  no  allusion  to  a 
very  important  part  of  it — the  ante-criminal  part,  if  I  may  so 
express  it.  He  proposes,  as  a  preventive  measure,  the  establish- 
ment of  Industrial  Schools,  to  which  the  children  of  the  poorer 
classes  or  vagrants  should  be  encouraged  to  come  and  give  their 
cheerful  and  active  labor,  by  receiving  marks  exchangeable  for  a 
good,  substantial,  but  coarse,  meal  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and 
some  other  food  to  carry  home  at  night.  The  employments  to 
be  as  much  as  possible  rural  and  agricultural,  and  in  every  case 
at  least  laborious,  fitting  those  subjected  to  them  to  face  hard 
work  hi  after  life. 


THE     END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


. 

MAYi  -'68  -1?  AM 

L^AN    ?-Mr-r^-r 

JUN  1  8  1968^ 

-f 

^»~ 

-IP  — 

1      REC'D  ID  JUN  4 

70-1      4  2     , 

EEC.C1R.   DLC    2  '80 

LD  21A-45m-9,'67 
(H5067slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


